An unexpected friendship
by ChildrenoftheBarricade
Summary: The story of Montparnasse and Enjolras, from beginning to tragic climax. Warnings for blood, violence, death, mild slash and occasional uses of strong language. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: OK, people, I wasn't exactly ready to post this yet, but I got bullied into it by a friend (you know who you are EW, and if you don't understand this, then READ THE BOOK). Probably not brilliant, but I write because it's fun. Warnings for language and possible slash later.**

**Disclaimer: As far as I am aware, Victor Hugo was not a psychotically obsessed fifteen year old fan girl. Ergo, I am not him. If I owned Les Mis, writing fanfiction would be slightly redundant. I own nothing but Georges Cedille.**

Montparnasse

I caught sight of my target - he wasn't hard to miss. He slipped into the back alley, a foolish boy playing brave, pretending he knew the underbelly of Paris. Or maybe he was stupid enough that he genuinely believed it. It was enouh to make me laugh.

He looked like kid, a year or two younger than me, but in truth was twenty-one or twenty-two. He was one of the students tht Eponine's baron hung around with. Ah, Eponine. As much as I liked the girl, she didn't think before she spoke. She'd led me right to him, the leader of the group. He was a young pretty boy, extremely rich, fragile looking. He wouldn't fight back. He couldn't.

We'd been planning this for weeks, me and the rest of Patron-Minette. We wouldn't include Thenardier - every plan he'd been had gone wrong, and it was one less person to split the riches with. The plan was simple enough. Find some rich kid with doting parents who'd do anything to get their precious darling home, safe and sound. Ponine had just made it too easy, ranting about this kid who hated her Marius boy.

I'd been watching him for weeks. He had a watchdog, another student who scarcely let him out of his sight. To my relief, this annoyed my target, and he escaped his warden at every opportunity.

Now today was the day. Claquesous, Babet, Brujon and Guelemer were positioned nearby, blocking his escape when the inevitable attempt to escape came. In the darkness, my target hadn't noticed them. I stood at the entrance to the alleyway.

"Monsieur Enjolras?" He looked up, turning, startled, instinctively tensing up.

"Who's there?" His voice betrayed no fear, and it didn't tremble. I was rather impressed actually. I kept to the shadows, unseen, until I was close enough to touch him. That was, after all, the idea. I reached and grabbed him.

He reacted instantly, but not the savage, instinctive struggle I'd expected. He pulled away, twisting free from my grip in one violent movement. He was deceptively strong for his slight build. I shouldn't have been surprised. The same thing had been said of me often enough. Fortunately, though not for him, he stumbled straight into Claquesous.

A soft gasp of surprise was the first sign of fear from our target. Claquesous dealt him a single blow, throwing him into the wall. He tried to stagger forward but collapsed. With a tiny cry of pain, he passed out.

Enjolras

I should have listened to 'Ferre, I really should have. He knows best, always. We'd been at the cafe, just talking, nothing important. In typical Combeferre fashion he was fretting over me, telling me to look out for myself.

When Combeferre lectures me, I get annoyed. When I get annoyed, I defy him, just to prove he's not in charge of me. I should have listened, because I'd been feeling uneasy myself. I felt as if someone had been following me. I put it down to my imagination, or at the very worst, the police tailing us. I didn't ask the others if they felt the same. It would worry them unnecessarily, or convince them that I'd finally lost my mind.

I hate arguing with Combeferre. Sometimes I manage to touch a nerve and my strong, sure deputy looks lost and wounded. I'm too proud to apologise so I just turn away and sooner or later he comes to me. I've never understood why. He only looks out for my best interests and I push him away. In his position, I wouldn't put up with me if not for the fact that our parents were siblings.

I couldn't stand to see him apologise that day. He was trying to get me to eat, to convince me I couldn't survive on dreams for the future alone. We'd fought and I stormed off, heading back to our apartment so I could cool off before he got home. I took the backstreets, sure he wouldn't follow me there.

That was a mistake.

Someone called my name. I stopped, instantly thinking of my cousin, but he never addressed me as Monsieur. None of the Amis did. It could have been someone new to the cause, even the Bonapartist that Courfeyrac brought along, but the voice was completely unfamiliar to me.

"Who's there? I stayed steady. I couldn't show fear or shock.

Silence echoed around me. Suddenly a pair of arms closed around me. I pulled free, stumbling back, right into someone else. All I could see was vague shadows.

An explosion of pain, and then everything went black.

Combeferre

I gave his wounded pride time to heal before going after him. He isn't absolved from blame in our arguments, we both knew it, but I couldn't stand to see him unhappy. He'd look guilty that I'd apologised first, but got over it.

Oh, Enjolras, my beloved cousin, marble leader, you're not as emotionless as people think, I pondered with a sigh. There was a curious childishness to him that no-one else seemed aware of. When we argued, he looked hurt and betrayed, heartbreakingly fragile. If he knew, he'd smother the instinct. No sign of weakness. The people needed their fearless leader.

After an hour or so, I gave up and went home, if just to make sure he was safe. He inspired in me an instinct almost maternal, partially due to his own recklessness. I called out his name as I opened the door.

He didn't respond, and a quick look showed me that the apartment was empty. He hadn't come home yet. Looking for him was futile, he could be anywhere in Paris. I'd just have to wait.

He still hadn't returned by midnight, and I started to worry, though I attempted to be rational. I was the logical one. Enjolras kept unusual hours. Sometimes he wouldn't return until almost dawn. I gave up and went to bed, leaving the door open for Enjolras to return.

In the morning, the house was still silent, my cousin's bed unslept in. I went searching for him, any idea of restraint or logic long gone. I checked all of his usual haunts. Nothing. None of the Amis had seen him. I even looked at the police stations, all to no avail. Enjolras had completely vanished.

I spent the day searching, then returned to the cafe for the Amis' meeting. Enjolras was absent and I was worried, but when he reappeared, he'd be disappointed if I had neglected my duty. I had to act in his stead.


	2. Chapter 2

Montparnasse

I left the captive in Patron-Minette's hands, still unconcious, and went to the cafe where his friends met. I did this for two reasons. Firstly, I had to join them and throw them off the scent if they started to figure out what had happened to their leader.

Secondly, if his family failed to respond, surely one of his friends would pay up to save the boy's pretty little neck.

I went to his depute, his watchdog, and asked permission to stay. He looked wary, worry showing on his face. "It's not really my decision..."

"Ah, but Apollo is not here!" a drunken voice called from the corner. "And our dearly beloved one believes in equality for all, though apparently not me. I notice he has failed to grace us with his beautiful presence. Is he still annoyed with his cousin?"

So, our prisoner had family in Paris? Interesting. Another man was glaring at the drunk, but not about my presence, so I presumed I was welcome.

"Stow it, Winecask. This is why we tell you nothing. Enjolras wouldn't miss a meeting for a petty argument with Combeferre. He's missing." His voice softened as he turned to the depute. "Judging by his absence, I take it there's no sign of him yet, 'Ferre?"

"I'm afraid not, Courfeyrac. He's vanished without a trace. And Grantaire, is it any wonder he looks down on you? I'm amazed you haven't been evicted."

The drunk, Grantaire, smiled. "Of course not. Should such a fine being, truly a god in human form, not look down upon us mere mortals? What I do wonder is what makes you so different from me? You adore him s much as I do, I care for him as much as you do. So why are you in the sunlight of his golden gaze and I ignored in his shadow?"

Combeferre snarled. "Because you're a drunken cynic. It wouldn't surprise me if you're only here because you think one day, the universe will turn upside down and you might get the opportunity to bed him. You're not one of us."

The one called Courfeyrac interrupted them with a cough, nodding in my direction. It was obvious what he meant. I was a newcomer, ignorant to the bitter relationships. It was for the best that he kept thinking that. "I think we should focus more on finding Enjolras. 'Ferre, you've checked the prisons, but did you think of checking the hospitals?"

Combeferre turned pale and Courfeyrac cursed quietly. "No, 'Ferre, I just meant it as a precaution. We both know Enjolras is untouchable. Even disease and injury steer clear of him."

The meeting continued as such. I left with an invite to return and a reassurance that they wouldn't find their friend any time soon.

I returned to the abandoned Gorbeau tenement, the base of our crime, to find the hostage still asleep. They'd tied his hands, and from the rumpled look of his clothes, he'd been searched.

"What did you get from him?"

"'Bout thirty francs and a watch." Babet told me. Our hostage wasn't stirring, and it didn't look like he'd wake anytime soon.

"Put him in one of the rooms. Make sure he can't escape, and be sure one of us is always on guard."

"By the way, Thenardier knows. He says he wants in on the job, or he'll go to the _cognes_."

"Dammit, Eponine!" No-one else could have told him. I took a breath and calmed myself. Provided he stayed put in the tenement, Thenardier couldn't do any damage.

Enjolras

My head was pounding when I woke up, and I couldn't move my arms. I was lying in an unfamiliar mattress in a rundown room. I remembered what had happened in a flash, and wondered how long I'd been unconcious.

The door opened and two men entered. No, one was just a boy, younger than me. It was he who spoke.

"We'll, you're awake."

"Who are you? What do you want?" I struggled and felt thick ropes burning against my wrists.

"Calm down. Co-operate, and you'll be safe. We'll let you go soon, and you can forget all of this. If you resist, we'll have no choice but to use force, and I really don't want to hurt you. But Guelemer here is experienced in that matter. I'm Montparnasse. Who are you?"

I spat at him. His guard responded with a back handed blow across the cheek. I bit my tongue and spat out a mouthful of blood, reeling. "En-Enjolras."

"Good. At least know we know you won't lie. I know who you are, Enjolras." My supposedly irrational fears haunted me.

"You've been following me."

"Very good. Where are your parents?" I understood. I was a hostage, a tool in a plan to extort money.

"Marseilles."

"Be specific." I shook my head, getting a kick to the ribs for my troubles. I doubled over, winded. Risking defiance would end up in pain, and, selfish as it was, I couldn't do it.

"The manor house on the Rue de Lierre. Half a mile from the coast."

"And your cousin's family? Are they rich?" 'Ferre. He tried to warn me away from this and I ignored him. He wasn't getting into trouble in my name.

"Don't you dare touch him."

"Fret not, he'll be safe. His parents are back-up, should yours fail to respond. If all else fails, we hand you over to someone. The Surete, or royalist extremists. They'd pay handsomely for you. We'll get money out of you somehow, we're not fussy. Now answer. Is he rich?"

Another kick to the stomach, and I nodded dumbly. "Good boy. Now, do you need anything? Food or water? You're no good to us dead and we should make sure your co-operation is appreciated."

"Untie me. Please." The last thing I wanted to do was plead, but it slipped out of habit.

The other man laughed but Montparnasse silenced him."Fair enough. You've helped us, and it can't do any harm. It's not like he can run anywhere.

They left me, my hands liberated but still very much trapped.

Thenardier

I found out about the gang's latest scheme. Rather than brood, I got myself in on it. If the ransom worked, there was 50,000 francs in it for each of us. Now, we just had to decide how to get the message across to the aristo brat's parents.

"We need something of his," Babet pointed out. "And his parents will expect something written in his own hand."

"Fair enough," Montparnasse replied. "He's a good little Catholic boy. He'll no doubt be wearing a crucifix."

"I'll go check," I said. Eponine was guarding the door. I pushed past her to see the hostage. At least this time he was just an ordinary student, not an escaped convict.

The kid was asleep, stretched out on the mattress. His cravat was ripped in two, used to bandage his sore wrists. He'd tied his hair back with a strip of cloth torn from the hem of his shirt. Sure enough, glittering on his now bare neck was a chain, holding a wooden cross edged with silver. Valuable, no doubt, but we couldn't sell it. I had a job to do. I shook the kid awake.

"Wha...what do you want?"

"Write something. You need to be identified by your parents."

"Write what?"

"I don't know, tell them to co-operate." He aquiesced, half asleep, then slumped back down on the mattress, breathing softy. I pulled of the chain and returned to the others. Babet went down and swapped with Eponine. I shook my head at her.

"'Ponine, he knew the baron, our old neighbour, right?"

"He bosses Marius about."

"So you know him?" She nodded. "Why did you pick the washed out pauper who almost sold us out to the police over him? He's rich, successful, smart, handsome and not a grass."

Ponine just sighed and turned towards Montparnasse. "So where's my cut in this? Three hundred thousand, and I don't get a single franc."

"You lost your share to your father. You just had to get him involved." I glowered at him for that. "Anyway, we might end up with more."

"How?"

"His parents are trusting, and naive. We send them vague proof that he's been released and they'll believe. We get our money. Then..." He trailed off, lost in thought. I groaned.

"Then what, 'Parnasse?"

"The Friends of the ABC are the most famous revolutionary society in France, and our hostage is the leader. There's a price on his head. We'll turn him in to the Surete. Hell, if I stick around his friends, we coud sell them all out."

It was diabolical. It was brilliant, genius. In a few days, we'd be rich men.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, uploaded for EW's benefit (I won't use your full name) because she likes to see the violence against **_**mon cheri**_** Enjolras. So here's chapter 3, involving blood, a whip, and some suggestive imagery on Cedille's part...**

Montparnasse

When we'd written to the kid's parents, I went to the Surete, and I told them that I'd found the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC. They seemed interested, and I got one of them to come back to the Gorbeau tenement.

"The name's Georges Cedille. Who am I dealing with?"

"I don't give my name, but people call me Montparnasse. Besides, all that matters is that I can lead you to Enjolras."

At the tenement, our prisoner was bound again. A large bruise on his cheek showed he'd resisted the restraint. He trembled in the grip of the others. I thought he was afraid but when he lifted his head, his eyes blazed with a cold blue fury. He glared at me.

"Montparnasse, you lying bastard!"

"My sincere apologies, Enjolras, but it's just good business." I turned to Cedille. "Satisfied?"

He stooped over the blond figure kneeling on the floor. A hand reached out and touched his hair, moving down unti it rested on his throat. He licked his lips, eyes shining. Knowledge told me this wouldn't just be a routine interrogation. Cedille's eyes swept across his new captive. It was fairly obvious what he had in mind.

"Oh, yes. Very. He's the right boy." He pulled Enjolras to his feet, and we all saw him tense up. Cedille turned back to me. "One down, nine to go, right? I'm relying on you."

"What?!" Enjolras exploded, pulling free from Cedille's grip. "Leave them alone. You promised you wouldn't touch my cousin."

"Just good business. About the reward." Cedille sighed and handed me the money. He took hold of Enjolras unresistingly.

"Orion Enjolras, I am arresting you on the charges of sedition and treason." Then they were gone.

I looked at the money. Five thousand. Not much, but it would tide us over until the ransom arrived. "So, five between seven. Two of us do without."

Glances turned to Thenardier and Ponine. I nodded my assent to this silent vote. "Fair enough. But don't worry, soon the ransom will arrive. We'll never have to worry about money again. His parents are fools."

Enjolras

I should have known Montparnasse woud betray me to the Surete. That didn't surprise me. What did surprise me is that Cedille seemed familiar, like a face from a long distant memory. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

The cell was no better than the dingy room in my last prison. At least then I hadn't had Cedille leering at me through the bars. I stayed sat on the cold stone floor, tryin to soothe the newly aggrevated friction burns on my arms.

"Stand up, brat." I looked up slowly, refusing to act afraid. The cell door was open. Cedille stood there, holding a lengthof rope and a whip. "Do as you're told, or five lashes for ever disobedience."

I got slowly to my feet and was pushed onto a chair, straddling it, tied in place. My shirt was ripped up the back, exposing the skin. "Do you think I'm afraid?" I hissed.

"You should be. I get this information from you and I don't have to pay that Montparnasse kid. First: where does your little group meet?"

Defiance would mean pain, but I couldn't betray my friends. Honor and decency waged war against common sense and self-preservation. There was a sharp crack and a burning pain. "Don't hesitate. Answer."

_Lie_, my instinct told me "We meet at the Barriere du Maine."

"Who is leading in your place?" Another hesitation. Another crack of the whip. Even so, my mind went black, and Combeferre was the only name I could think of. I couldn't give him up.

"I - I can't" I tried to bite back a cry as the weapon hit my back, but I couldn't restrain myself.

"Do you want to answer yet?"

"Can't... won't..." It continued for what seemed like an eternity. He asked, and I resisted. He made good on his word, five cracks of the whip for every time I kept silent. I could feel the heat of blood pouring down my back. If it wasn't for the chair, I would have collapsed a long time ago.

In the end, I coud take it anymore. Cedille leant down beside me, his hand resting on the bloodstained remnant of my shirt.

"Come on, Enjolras, see sense here. You're about to pass out, we can both see it. You're on the losing side, but you could be one of us. Just answer. Who is your deputy?"

"I - I'm sorry. Please forgive me for this. M - my cousin."

I vaguely heard him asking for my cousin's name when I lost conciousness.

Marius

Enjolras had been missing for two weeks, and Combeferre was verging on a nervous breakdown. I was sat in on the meeting with Eponine, and she was watching the newcomer, that Montparnasse boy.

"'Ponine, what's wrong?"

"Oh, you don't care. You only care about Cosette. Besides, I shouldn't tell you."

"Just be out with it."

"I know where Enjolras is." I just gawped at her. "He was being kept hostage at the Gorbeau tenement, but then the Surete got him."

He was in some serious trouble, then. I figured I should tell someone, but who? The answer came that evening having an argument with Courfeyrac.

"Marius, it's getting beyond a joke! I can't pay the rent on my own, you know. You're wasting your life just chasing after this Cosette girl. What's the point of this?"

"At least I haven't lost my supposed best friend."

"What?" Oh, damn. I should have kept quiet. "Marius, what do you know?"

"I was going to tell you, I swear, I'm sorry!"

"Tell me!" I'd never heard him so angry.

"Eponine told me. He was being held hostage but they sold him out to the Surete."

"You're joking. You idiot! You didn't tell any of us? You know how worried Combeferre's been, but you just kept quiet."

Courfeyrac took a deep breath and I guessed my verbal assualt was over. He sat down in his chair heavily.

"Combeferre will go ballistic. The Surete won't be gentle with him." He suddenly smiled, which scared me slightly. "On the upside, Bahorel will be happy. He's just been waiting for an excuse. I think it's time for a prison break."

He ran out of the flat, undoubtedly to inform the Fearless Leader's deputy, leaving me on my own.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, I proudly present chapter four which I had to **_**completely rewrite**_** thanks to EW, who has declared herself my co-writer. Hope you're happy now. I still own nothing except my origninal characters and a twisted imagination.**

**In case anyone's not sure, anything in italics that is not French/argot, is written. I wanted to see how our Fearless Leader will cope without his best weapon...**

Montparnasse

I suppose I felt a tiny shred of guilt for selling Enjolras out to the _cognes_. Cedille obviously had some plans for him.

Well, the kid was out of my hands now. No, he was older than me, but I couldn't help but think of him as a kid. Even if I hadn't handed him over, the ransom arrived. He'd have been released.

The cafe was still fairly full. Only that Courfeyrac ad Eponine's baron had left. Suddenly, though, Courfeyrac charged back in, red-faced and out of breath.

"Courfeyrac, what's wrong?"

"'Ferre... it's... Enjolras..." he panted.

"What?" Courfeyrac dropped into the seat next to Combeferre, and spoke to him in a hushed voice. Combeferre went completely white.

"Courfeyrac, tell me this a joke. He can't... he's only young. God knows what they'll do to him. He's been accused of treason, for Christ's sake."

"I know, 'Ferre, but calm down. He may only be little, but he's strong, and smart. Now, this is what we're going to do."

They spoke together in whispers, but I'd heard everything I needed to hear. Eponine had told her baron. Marius had told Courfeyrac, and he'd gone to Enjolras's watchdog.

The police would be swarming the tenement soon. Accused of treason or not, we'd held a young student hostage. If I went back to the tenement to warn Patron-Minette, there was a good chance I'd be arrested as well.

I had fifty thousand francs in my pocket. I was set for life. I could leave Patron-Minette to their fate, sell out the rest of the group, forget the guilt and disappear. I could go to America, to England, to the Indies, anywhere.

For now though, I had to stay. I wasn't going to the tenement.

I just had to stay quiet and hope Eponine did too. Any hint that I'd sold their beloved leader to the _cognes_, and Les Amis would never trust me again.

Enjolras

I'd been in Cedille's 'care' for over a week. I'd spent the entire time trying to keep silent. Cedille knew I was lying about the Barriere du Maine, and was still trying to make me give up the names of the other Amis. I'd refused to say anything. As a result, I was covered in purple-black bruising and had lost more blood than I thought my body could hold. Joly would go into a hypochondriac fit if he could see me now.

Cedille looked down at me and I glared defiantly back. "Come on now, Enjolras, don't you ever learn? I'll let you go when you tell me the names of your compatriots."

I ignored him, and he grabbed me by the throat. "I... can't tell you... anything if... you choke me," I managed to gasp out.

"Will you tell me if I let you go?" I went to shake my head, but I heard a voice behind me.

"If I were you, I'd get my hands off him." That was 'Ferre's voice. I'd recognise it anywhere. I heard a gun being cocked. Cedille laughed but released his grip, and I took in a deep breath. I saw Combeferre then, holding a pistol, aiming it squarely at Cedille. Some called me marble, but when 'Ferre was really angry, he could turn to stone. Cedille knew none of this and just laughed at him.

"Now why would I want to do that? I've captured a dangerous criminal, guilty of sedition and treason. Why should I release him?"

"I swear I'll shoot." I put myself in between them, facing Combeferre.

"Don't you dare."

"He deserves it."

"That's not our decision to make. What happened to the good must be innocent? You're better than this, aren't you?"

Combeferre tried to shout a warning to me, but I didn't react in time. Cedille grabbed me, pinning down my arms.

"You should never turn your back on an enemy. Are you still going to shoot?"

Oh, no. I was not going to be the victim anymore, not playing the damsel in distress. I ripped free of him. "I'm not a child anymore!" They were words I normally addressed to Combeferre. Why had I said them to him? Either way, it had the desired effect. He stepped back, a little confused.

"You remember..?" I didn't know what I was supposed to remember and I didn't care.

"Enjolras, come here." All too willingly, I went to stand by Combeferre. He went over to Cedille, gun still aimed."

"On your knees." Against Combeferre, unrelenting and furious, he obeyed, and felt the barrel of the pistol pressed against his temple. He was going to do it. He was going to shoot him.

"'Ferre!" I snapped sharply. He instinctively pulled away. He was the elder of us, but I was the leader. "I said don't." He was about to draw back, but his anger fuelled a bloodlust. A gunshot echoed, and Cedille fell, clutching his bloody arm.

"Stay away from my cousin. Come on, we're leaving." I didn't hesitate, but Combeferre ran a critical medical eye over my condition. "You can't get all the way home. You're injured. We'll go to Joly, no arguments. Lean on me, I'll help you walk."

"I'm fine," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Give me your arm, or I swear I will pick you up and carry you." I aquiesced. Considering I'd just seen my gentle, innocent Combeferre shoot someone in cold blood, I didn't dare argue.

Combeferre

I hadn't meant to shoot the guard. It was supposed to be quick, get in and out quickly, bringing Enjolras with me. I'd panicked, and ended up shooting him. If it hadn't been for Enjolras, I'd have killed him on the spot.

I relayed all this to Joly and Bossuet, sat in their living room. Enjolras was asleep. I'd fed him, considering he'd been running on nothing but adrenaline for near two days, and then he'd finally succumbed to the heavy dose of laudenum I'd forced on him. He needed bed rest, and he wouldn't agree unless I physically forced it on him.

Unsurprisingly, he was not impressed the next morning. "You drugged me," he hissed, his crystalline voice ragged and harsh. I shook my head.

"I know, _cheri_, and I'm sorry. Now stay quiet. That animal damaged your vocal cords when he strangled you. Strain your voice now, and you run the risk of making the damage permanent."

He looked sadly at me, but nodded. A couple of weeks of silence in return for him to continue making future speeches. It was for the greater good, as he'd say.

"Good. Now, you may also have suffered some concussion or the like. I'm going to ask you some simple questions to make sure you're alright." I handed him a pen and paper. "First, do you know where you are?"

_The bed in the second bedroom of 76, Rue d'Epais. Or, in layman's terms, Joly's bed._ I glared at him. "This isn't a joke. I'm trying to help you."

_Sorry._ I nodded. "Second, do you remember what happened to you?" A nod. I didn't need any specific details. I was a doctor, I could work it out for myself. "Do you know the guard's name?" This was for personal benefit. I had to know who we were up against.

_Georges Cedille_. "Did you know him before this?" He shook his head, but I needed to know why Cedille recognised him. "If you're sure. Finally, who kidnapped you? Who handed you over to the Surete?"

He hesitated. "Its alright, _cheri_. You're safe here. No-one's going to hurt you now." He shook his head in violent disagreement. Fear was not an emotion he easily fell prey to.

"Then what's wrong?"

"I-I can't remember," he choked, ignoring my warning not to speak in his confusion.

"Hush, it's fine. You'll remember soon. It's just shock. You're prone to amnesia after accidents, remember?" I winced at my bad choice of words, but Enjolras smiled.

_Funny. And yes, I know what you mean. Oh, and if you drug me against my will again, I'll kill you._

"Understood, Fearless Leader. Now please behave yourself and stay in bed. Joly will keep an eye on you. Ignore him if he tells you you're dying, I assure you, you're not. Don't let Laigle near you, you've had enough bad luck."

_I'm not a child, Julien, nor an invalid. I'm twenty two, not twelve. Don't treat me like an infant._

The sound, or rather sight, of my first name caught my attention. He only called me Julien when he was annoyed. "I know. I'm sorry. But in my defence, you disappeared without a trace for two weeks and then turned up in the custody of the most violent _cogne_ I've ever laid eyes on."

_And you shot him._

"If I had to defend you or any of the Amis, I'd do it again, without hesitation."

_Then thank you._


	5. Chapter 5

**A:N/ Obviously, the readers are all aware who Montparnasse is, but kindly remember that Enjolras doesn't. Call it dramatic irony if you will. (This is why I shouldn't write fics while studying Macbeth in English. Chapter 6 will be up soon EW, I just need to finish the last bit.**

Montparnasse

Combeferre strode into the cafe, balanced somewhere between rage and elation. "Bahorel, I've got a name for you."

A large man in the corner looked up. "What are you talking about?"

"We found him. I've got Enjolras back." The room was in outrage, Bahorel spluttering on his drink. Combeferre settled them down with a wave of his hand. "I don't know much. I found him in a bad way, and he's pretty hazy about everything. But we managed to get one name. Cedille, from the Surete."

Bahorel grinned. "It'll be sorted. You touch one of the Amis, you answer to me. I finally get my excuse to break someone's neck."

He hadn't given my name yet. I had to stop him from ratting me out. Bribe him, threaten him, blackmail him. Anything it took.

A boy of about my age spoke up. "Is he goin to be alright, Combeferre?"

Combeferre bit his lip. "I want to say yes, Jehan, but I'm not sure. That Cedille was goddamn animal interrogating him. It's brutal." He took a breath and forced a smile. "But you know Enjolras. Sometimes I swear Grantaire's right, and he's Apollo incarnate. He definitely doesn't understand the concept of mortality."

I had to go see Enjolras without arousing suspicion. But of course, to these people, I wasn't a dangerous criminal, but one of them.

"Combeferre?" He looked up. "Is there anything I can do for him? I may not have met him, but if I'm part of this group, I should show the leader some respect."

"It's a nice offer, but I'm not sure. He's hurt, and I'm not sure I want anyone around him. I'd rather wait until he recovers a little."

"'Ferre, I think it's a good idea," little Jehan said, and Bahorel nodded. "Give Enjolras what he wants, and he'll behave himself and stay in bed for you. Otherwise he'll cause trouble. You know him, he'll want to meet a new recruit."

Combeferre looked at me. "I'd like to help him," I told him.

A moment's thought, a moment's hesitation, and he nodded. "Could you possibly bring him some food? He doesn't eat much, but even if I have to forcefeed him, I'll make sure he gets a decent meal."

"Of course. Where is he staying?" Combeferre reeled off the address, and I nodded. I'd talk to Enjolras and make sure he stayed silent.

Enjolras

I obediently stayed in bed. I didn't want to intrude on Joly and Laigle's hospitality, but Combeferre had fixed it. He offered to pay rent and let them stay at our apartment , refusing to except their excuses.

Combeferre went to the cafe to inform the others that I'd returned, and returned with another man. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place him.

_Who are you?_ I still wasn't allowed to speak. A look of something almost like relief passed over his face, and he smiled. His smile was like Courfeyrac's; that must be where the familiarity came from. Combeferre came over and sat by me.

"It's alright, _cheri_, he's a friend." I glared. I hated that name. "This is Montparnasse. He's a new recruit."

"I brought food," he said, lifting a bag.

Combeferre gently touched my arm. "I need to check your back." I leant forward obediently, feeling the sting of the lashes. I hadn't counted the blows, but from Combeferre's expression the first time he saw it, it was extremely bad.

"Do you want me to leave?" Montparnasse asked.

Combeferre was about to say yes, but I shook my head. _It's fine_, I wrote.

"Apparently, you've got the voice of a god. Am I not worthy, or is it all hush-hush?" He didn't say it cruelly, and I smiled.

_I've injured my throat. 'Ferre says I'm not allowed to talk_.

"By the looks of things, it's not the only thing you've injured." He looked pointedly at the bloodstained bandages that 'Ferre dropped on the floor.

I shrugged, shivering at Combeferre's cool touch on my back. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I should leave you in Combeferre's capable hands. He's looked after things well while you were away. I hope you'll get well soon."

I nodded my thanks. _Glad to meet you too. Welcome to the group._ It was always a bonus to have new recruits to the cause. Even Combeferre hadn't pushed him away. That had to be good.

Joly

Combeferre was agitated. He was sat beside his sleeping younger cousin, but kept getting up and pacing up and down.

"Calm down," I told him. "Enjolras is safe. He'll have a few scars, but he'll recover."

"It's not that. I want to catch the bastards that did this to him and make them pay."

I was confused. "I thought Bahorel was already after that Cedille man."

"He is, but someone must have sold him out to the Surete. How would you feel if it was Bossuet?"

I felt my stomach clench. I cared about Bossuet just as much as Combeferre cared for Enjolras. I tried to imagine Bossuet lying in the bed, his back ripped open by a whip, battered, strangled and heaven only knows what else.

"I'd want revenge," I admitted.

"Exactly."

"He'll remember who attacked him soon."

He shook his head. "No he won't."

"I thought I was the one who worried too much. I know you love Enjolras and you worry about him, but he'll be fine."

"I know that, but he still won't remember. This isn't the first time."

I looked up at Combeferre. It was rare that Combeferre gave anything away about their history, but it could help us to treat him.

"He was only fourteen, just a kid. He was playing in the tree by the river and the branch snapped. He didn't drown, obviously, but he hit his head and caught a fever. When he recovered, he couldn't remember who he was. We had to reteach him his entire life history. Even to this day, he remembers nothing about his early childhood."

I hadn't expected that. It was strange to think of Enjolras as being lost. Combeferre looked guilty for telling me, and sat down again by Enjolras, taking his cousin's hand in his.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Six chapters in two days due to my tyrant of a co-writer ;-). Feeling extremely opressed and abased now. Suppose there's not much chance of Enjolras and the Amis coming to save me, but I live in hope. Will post chapter 7 tomorrow, EW, I promise.**

Montparnasse

He didn't recognise me. I scarcely dared to believe my luck. I could make them trust me again, and hand all ten into Georges Cedille.

I realised suddenly I didn't want to hand them all in. I admired Enjolras. He had spirit. Few men would be strong enough to be introduced to a complete stranger while completely invalided. If I could convince him, he'd be a brilliant addition to the ranks of Patron-Minette.

He looked amazingly dignified for someone stripped to the waist with his cousin cleaning the blood from his back. The worshipful drunk had once compared him to the Archangel Michael, and it was easy to see the resemblance. In an angrier mood, he'd also said that Enjolras was going to die a martyr to a hopeless cause, and I could see that too.

Despite his cousin's protests, he came to the Cafe Musain. He kept his silence, and Combeferre wouldn't let anyone touch him. I stayed at a respectful distance, observing. If I gained his trust, the others would follow.

He was looking round at his friends, trying to communicate without saying anything, and it was frustrating him. From the looks of things, he and Combeferre could communicate with a quick glance or the lightest of touches, but no-one else was on quite the same wavelength. He was looking down-heartened, so I went a little closer and sat at his table. "Evening."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I guess you're feeling pretty fed up." Another nod, and Combeferre was glaring at me. I didn't back down. "You know, you're just like one of your abased now."

He looked at me quizzically, and I was glad to have finally caught his attention properly. "Well, you don't have a voice to speak up for yourself. You need help, someone to do it for you." I glanced at Combeferre, and to my relief, he nodded. I continued. "If you ever feel your attempts are pointless, remember that."

Well, I had to play the part of the revolutionary, didn't I? Enjolras smiled and leant back in his chair. Even Combeferre relaxed a little.

Combeferre would be the hardest to win round. It would be impossible to get close to my intended new recruit without his agreement. I was extremely wary of the deputy. If anyone could expose me, it was him.

This was all provided Enjolras's memory didn't return. As accustomed to betrayal as I was, it seemed wrong to hit the same person twice, with the same attack.

Enjolras

Finally back in my own bed, I slept like the dead. I woke much later than usual, sunlight streaming through the window Combeferre bustling around the flat.

"Good morning, _cheri_." Still half-asleep, I permitted him the luxury of using my nickname just this once, without rebuke. "I didn't want to wake you. It's rare that you get a decent sleep. How are you feeling?"

_Fine._ I pulled myself out of bed and got dressed, before going into the sitting room. Combeferre called to me.

"Are you hungry?" I shook my head, and he groaned in reply. "The correct response is yes. I will not be responsible for you starving yourself to death. Eat something, please, for me."

I capitulated, absently picking at the plate of bread and cheese he placed in front of me. He took a deep breath ad sat down opposite me.

"Enjolras, I know I've asked you this before, but I'm hoping some memory might have returned. Do you know who Cedille is?"

I shook my head. _I could recognise him now if that's what you mean._

"No, it's not that. Do you remember much about that night?"

_A little. It's a bit hazy._ Combeferre nodded.

"That's understandable. But he thought you'd remembered him."

_I recall the conversation. _I wondered about telling Combferre he seemed familiar, but I didn't want to give him false hope. _Maybe I knew him before the accident?_

Combeferre went white. We rarely discussed my mishap from when I was fourteen, but I was never sure why. "Perhaps, _cheri_, but don't worry about it. I'll deal with everything."

I relaxed. Grantaire, after an argument with Combeferre, had asked why I trusted him so implicitly. I'd glared at him, but the answer was simple. He was trustworthy. Although, in comparison to Grantaire, anyone was.

Eponine

After warning Marius, I hadn't gone back to the Gorbeau tenement. Neither had 'Parnasse, so we were the only two not in prison.

By some luck, this left me with my father's share of the money. I could buy pretty dresses, get Marius to notice me, be just as good as _Alouette_.*

I got the opportunity to see Marius more , because 'Parnasse was still chasing after that rich golden boy. Hadn't he he extorted enough money? I doubt his parents would pay up a second time.

I gave a little bit of money to Maman and Azelma. I even gave a few francs to Gavroche. After all, Marius's girl gave alms to the poor.

I still hid in boy's clothes when I went into the back room. Girls weren't supposed to be in here. The golden boy and his friends didn't notice me. Marius knew it was me, but he kept quiet.

Marius was arguing with his flatmate again. Montparnasse had left. I went after him, and heard raised voices in the alleyway. I stopped to listen.

"Well, you let him escape!" Parnasse hissed. "If he remembers, we're done for."

"The other one shot me. I didn't have a choice. Anyway, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can you give me them all? There were eleven there tonight."

"Not yet. I need to earn their trust." No. Parnasse, my Parnasse was going to betray us all. "Besides, I can only give you nine. The girl and the blonde kid are mine. After all, you can't keep a hold of him, and he's going to make a good addition to my group."

I smiled in the dark. He wanted to save me. But there was no way he'd convince the golden boy to join Patron-Minette. Even if he did, father and the others would never agree. My heart suddenly sank. He hadn't mentioned Marius. But the stranger was speaking again.

"No. Enjolras is a deal breaker. He's mine."

"What do you want with him, Cedille?"

"He's not who he says he is. His name isn't Orion Enjolras."

I couldn't tell anyone, not even Marius. This was my bargaining chip.

*** So this is mostly for EW's benefit, or anyone who hasn't read the book. Alouette means Lark, which was Cosette's childhood nickname. Cosette is, of course, Marius's girlfriend and future wife. Eponine is his personal stalker.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It's annoying being a Mizfit when none of your friends are. I am always on a fine line between laughing my head off and throwing a brick at someone when they can't pronounce a character's name. Enjolras is apparently now called 'I'm a giraffe'. Anyway, here's chapter 7.**

Montparnasse

Eponine came and confronted me. She'd overheard my conversation with Cedille and was attempting to blackmail me.

"You can't give them Marius."

"I can and will. He obviously doesn't care about you, so why do you care so much about him?"

"I should tell them."

"Then you'll be arrested as well. Not only are you associating with revolutionaries, but you're an accessory to kidnap and extortion. You took a share of the ransom, so you're just as guilty." She glared at me, but backed down.

"And what do you want Blondie for?"

"Like I said, I want to recruit him. He comes from semi-royalty, and has some important connections. Who else could escape from the Surete and not get recaptured despite being completely helpless? We need someone to bail us out occasionally, someone who has a respectable, trustworthy position in society."

I'd spoken too soon, or jinxed it, or something of the like. He did get rearrested. It wasn't for the escape - the _cogne_ had nothing to do with the Surete. He was just doing what he did best.

Enjolras had regained the power of speech a few days previously, and was making up for lost time. There were rumors hanging around his month of silence, though no-one had guessed the truth. Some said he'd been killed in an accident. Some blamed it on a secret execution, so as not to stir up the people. Others said he was in hiding, and others still saying he'd fled the country.

As a result, his reappearance caused quite a stir, and a massive crowd was gathered to hear him speak. His clear voice bore no sign of its previous injury. Unfortunately, it wasn't only his beloved _abaisse _that were listening to him speak.

I knew the inspector. Javert, the one who'd messed up our attack on the criminal philanthropist. He pulled Enjolras down from his podium, slapping a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. Courfeyrac argued, resulting in him being dragged away. He struggled, but Enjolras went calmly, finishing his speech as he was lead away.

I went to Combeferre, who was surprisingly laid back. "Aren't you worried about them?"

"Not particularly. This is a regular occurence. Enjolras gets arrested, either with Courfeyrac or Bahorel. I bail him out, tell him not to do it again. His parents bribe the police to clear his criminal record. Sooner or later, you get used to it."

Enjolras

I sat on the cell floor. Courfeyrac sat beside me, fiddlig with my hair until I slapped his hand away. The inspector was watching me with the same expression of confused recognition I'd had when seeing Montparnasse and Cedille for the first time.

"Have I arrested you before?"

"You personally? No. Have I been arrested before? Yes."

"I'll need your name, your full name."

"Orion Michel Marcelin Enjolras," I recited obediently.

"I will also need to check your record for previous crimes."

"Good luck finding it. Despite me trying to tell them not to, my parents pay an extortionate amount of money to keep my record clean."

"Of course. The only child and heir to the infamous Enjolras estate. I've met your parents, boy. What do they think of what you're wasting your inheritance on?"

"In truth? They don't mind, so long as Combeferre keeps an eye on me, makes sure I don't break my neck or get sentenced to death. I've managed to stick to their terms so far."

"Don't play smart with me, or you won't be sticking to those terms for much longer."

"Is that a threat, Inspector?" I asked coolly. He glared at me.

"What about that other one?"

"That other one?" Courfeyrac demanded indignantly. "I go by Courfeyrac, but you're looking for the name Aimery de Courfeyrac. Previous charges include being drunk and disorderly, criminal damage and disturbance of the peace. I don't have the benefits of being a beloved, and therefore spoilt, only child. I don't understand why you don't take advantage of it more often."

Spoilt? I glared at Courfeyrac. He was one of my closest friends, but sometimes I wondered if he listened to a word I said. "Because, _Aimery_, that would defeat the purpose of everything I say."

Another hour of the Inspector trying to figure out who I was, and Combeferre arrived with Montparnasse. "God, _cheri_, Aunt Christine is going to kill me. Come on. Inspector, I've paid bail for them both."

The inspector glared at me as I left. "Don't let me see you in here again."

Javert

I tried to chase after the boy the second I realised who he was, but he'd gone. The realisation came with a shock of guilt and shame that it had taken that long but, in my defence, he was someone I believed long dead.

I couldn't understand it. Someone had paid to clear his name, but he wasn't Orion Enjolras. His name was Valentin. He was my son.

My Valentin had disappeared aged twelve. One of my officers, an eighteen year old, had taken a shine to him, and Valentin had looked up to him. It had been fine until the officer and his friends attempted to force my son through their foolish rite of passage. He'd panicked and disappeared. A man had been convicted for his murder. He was dead.

I'd refused to believe it, but seven and a half years later, there was still no sign of my son, until now. It was strange to think of him as being all grown up. My Valentin was a little boy, bright eyes always wide with wonder, blonde curls in a tangled mess. His mother had died of an infection after his birth, but I'd tried to look after him. I'd adored him.

This boy, despite claiming to be an Enjolras, was Valentin. The resemblance was too similar. I suddenly realised what that entailed.

Valentin, Enjolras, whatever he was calling himself, was a revolutionary. He was going to get himself killed. I could not allow that to happen, whatever the consequence.

Two of the others, his 'cousin' and fellow prisoner, offered me no problems. Julien Combeferre had no known offences, and Aimery de Courfeyrac had only minor charges. The third, however, the dark haired boy, matched the description of the sixth member of Patron-Minette. He should be behind bars, for two charges of kidnap and extortion.

Which brought me to the thought of Patron-Minette's first victim. Perhaps I was losing my mind. I thought I'd seen both Jean Valjean and my Valentin in Paris, both of which had been declared dead years ago. They couldn't be wandering around the streets of Paris.

No! I don't get things wrong. As strange as this sounded in my mind, ruled by logic, it was true. Valentin was a revolutionary criminal, and Jean Valjean a philanthropist. And they were both alive.

**A/N:Cue dramatic music for Javert's big reveal. The rite of passage is not what you think (unless you think like me), but more on that later. Sorry for any OOC-ness in Javert's little soliloquy, he's not a character I'm accustomed to writing. And yes, I did take the name Aimery from **_**Wasp's Nest**_** because I'm too lazy to think of names (credit to Catherine Lafontaine). A good story, but completely scarred me for life.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I accidentally deleted this whole chapter, but I finally rewrote it! It's mostly just filler, but I love E/R and had to have a tiny bit of it somewhere (not to mention, it's fun to get poor lickle Enjy drunk). I want to try and improve their relationship gradually though, not a sudden thing. But that's later. Enjoy this for now.**

Montparnasse

Combeferre rebuked the newly liberated prisoners. They sighed, clearing having heard it all before, and Combeferre relented. We went back to the cafe, presumably to stop Courfeyrac and Enjolras from doing stupid and getting themselves arrested again. As far as I could tell, Enjolras was never seen without one of them; Courfeyrac enjoyed getting them both into trouble, while Combeferre did his best to get them out.

Later that evening, when people were starting to leave, Combeferre was one of the last to do so. Courfeyrac had left fairly early, with a cheerful apology to Combeferre for getting himself arrested, and a half-hearted promise that it wouldn't happen again.

Combeferre stood up, looking at his cousin. "Are you coming home?"

"Not yet."

Combeferre raised an eyebrow, but a glance at the opposite corner showed that the drunk - what was his name? Grantaire, that was it - that seemed to worship Enjolras was completely comatose. He nodded. "Alright. Just don't come home too late."

Enjolras nodded, barely paying attention, focusing on something he was writing. "What's that?" He looked up, startled.

"Sorry, I didn't realise anyone else was here. It's nothing, just a piece for class."

"Really? What are you studying?"

"Law. The theory was that if we had lots of lawyers, we'd get ourselves out of trouble. It didn't quite work in practice, because Courfeyrac never shows up, Marius thinks of nothing but his Cosette, and Bossuet got kicked out. Not to mention, Blondeau and I don't see eye to eye, so I'll probably be following Bossuet's route soon."

I laughed and ordered a bottle of wine. "Have a drink with me?"

"Thank you, but I don't drink. Never have, never will."

"Just a single glass, _mon ami_. A toast to the Amis, or to anything you choose." Obviously not in the mood to argue, he gave in. After all, no-one was here to see him. I poured him a glass and he took a reluctant sip, grimacing, before returning to his work.

He began to drink a little more steadily, but was so absorbed in his paper he didn't notice me refilling his glass. The oldest trick in the book, but it worked brilliantly. I kept talking all the while, to keep him distracted.

If he was going to be in Patron-Minette, he was going to have to be able to handle his drink. Combeferre was a firm believer in the good must be innocent. Patron-Minette was neither of the two, so he couldn't be either.

I would convert him. Besides, if Cedille was telling the truth (though I doubted it), he wasn't as pure and innocent as people thought. He'd created a whole new identity for himself. I should have asked Cedille his real name.

I was distracted from my thoughts by Enjolras falling asleep on the table. His glass tipped, spilling wine over his newly finished paper. Combeferre was going to kill me.

Enjolras

I don't drink. No question about it. And this was the reason why. The light was too sharp, my head pounding. I'd most definitely had more than one glass of wine. My paper, due in tomorrow, was ruined, and it would take hours to rewrite.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Need a hand, _mon ami_?" I knew that voice.

"I am not your friend."

"Then allow the unworthy follower to do a service to the god in need." Grantaire sat beside me.

"Let me be, Winecask. Combeferre will have something for a headache."

"You don't handle alcohol very well, dear Apollo."

"Oh, get on with it. Call me a hypocrite, whatever. Your marble statue has cracked."

"I meant nothing of the sort, Apollo. You're merely inexperienced."

"As opposed to you, you mean?"

"As opposed to anoyone. Most people your age find some pleasure in drinking their troubles away. You, on the other hand, have touched nothing more than a few drops of communion wine, which doesn't count as alcohol."

"Well, I'm not most people," I snapped.

"You don't need to tell me. And, in case you're wondering, your new friend was topping up your drink. Just go home and sleep it off. Combeferre will blame me for this, undoubtedly. As if I could ever make you do something you don't want to do."

"I'm fine. I don't need to sleep."

"You may be Apollo incarnate, but even you need to sleep occasionally."

"I've just woken up. I have a paper to rewrite. I, unlike you, have important things to do today, and cannot waste my time recovering from a drunken binge."

"If you say so, Apollo. When Combeferre goes ballistic, don't say I didn't warn you.

I ignored him and settled down to rewrite my paper.

Cedille

I went to see Javert as soon as I left the hospital and dealt with my informant. The gunshot wound meant I couldn't use my arm, and I was going to get revenge on the brat that shot me.

Javert wasn't at work, so I had to go to his apartment. He glared at me when I came to the door, and I said the first thing that came to my mind. "I found him. I found Valentin."

"You're too late. I arrested him yesterday for disturbance of the peace. His cousin posted bail." I snorted.

"You let Valetin go? He passes fairly well as one of the Enjolras family, but he's our Valen alright. Why did you let him leave?"

"Don't you dare preach to me, Georges Cedille. It's because of you that I lost him in the first place. And you have some explaining to do yourself."

"How so?"

"According to records, you let him go as well. A couple of weeks ago, a young man matchin the description of Orion Enjolras escaped from Surete custody."

Damn. I'd been hoping he wouldn't find out about that. I motioned to my bandaged arm.

"That boy has some powerful and dangerous friends. I had no choice."

"Unsurprising. He's a revolutionary." How could he be so calm about this? He'd finally found his son, missing for almost eight years, and was acting like he was just another prisoner.

"What's your excuse for releasing him?"

"I had no reason to keep him. Some of us obey the law."

I scowled. It was because of his precious Valentin that I'd been sent down. I'd taken a game too far, scared him a little. That's why he ran away. Javert continued.

"From now on, the Surete have no jurisdiction over the rebels. They come straight to me, no arguments." I stifled a laugh. As if.

**A/N: By the way, I've been working out my dates, and I have to apologise for my mistake. At current in this story, it is round about October 1831, making Enjolras twenty one, not twenty two (his birthday is December 21st 1819). I also am aware that Enjolras is supposed to be born in 1806 and is 22 in 1828, not 1832, but this is obviously non-canon.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: From now on, the chapters are going to be different. There'll still be three character POVs per chapter, but it won't be M/E/random character. At least one of my two main characters will have a part in every chapter though.**

**If anyone's unsure, the first part of this chapter is a dream (or is it?). If I can write it, it's all working towards a complete breakdown for poor Enjolras, but I'll get round to that. I present chapter nine.**

Enjolras

_"Georges? I don't like it here," I called. I was in the forest, alone. No, not alone. I could hear someone. Footsteps crunching in tha autumn leaves,a hand on my back._

_"It's alright, Valen, I'm here. You don't have to worry." The hand withdrew, and I turned to see Georges leaning lazily against a tree trunk. _

_"I'm frightened." He smiled slightly and came over, putting an arm around me. I glanced up, seeing flashes of the moon through the branches._

_"I know you are _petit_, but you're one of us now, and we've all done it. All you need to do is spend a night in the forest."_

_"You said you only had to do it a few months ago. Why do I have to do it now?"_

_"Are you a baby, _petit_?"_

_"No," I said firmly. "I'm not _petit_." I was much younger than him, though. He was eighteen, and I just twelve. I looked up to him._

_"Good. Now, come here and sit next to me." He was back up against the tree. I obediently sat next to him._

_"You won't leave me, will you? It's so cold." He put an arm aroud me and I leant against him, trying to conserve body heat and comfort._

_"Don't worry, little one. I'm here." Reassured, I fell asleep._

_I woke with a start, not an hour later. Georges was gone. I was alone. "Georges? Are you there?" My voice sounded pitifully weak in the darkness. _

_"It's alright, Valen, I'm still here." He appeared then, along with a group of other boys, his friends, the others who'd been through the initiation. I saw a glint of silver, and felt my blood turn to ice._

_"Wh-What's going on?"_

_"Don't panic. I just didn't tell you everything. I know I told you that you just had to spend a night in the forest, but there's a little more. Do you know what a blood pact is?" I shook my head. "Well, it's quite simple. A few friends give a tiny drop of blood to show we're all trustworthy. We've all done it."_

_They were also all much older than me. I'd scarcely passed my first communion. Why was I being forced through this ordeal now?_

_Georges showed me his wrist, a tiny scar on it, not big enough to do any damage. "Do you trust me, Valen?"_

_I felt the cold metal blade against my wrist. "I don't want to do this."_

_"Relax,_petit_. It won't hurt."_

_"No!" I pulled away, only then realising that the blade was still pressed against me. It tore into flesh, and the promised drop of blood became a flood, a tiny cut, a gaping wound._

_Dizzy with panic, I ran off into the trees, and heard Georges curse. "Get after him! He'll never find his way home, and he'll end up bleeding to death."_

_I ran and kept running, only stopping when I stumbled and fell into a stream. The icy water stung my wrist, sweeping away any last traces of adrenaline. I scrambled out of the water, slumped against a tree and fell into an exhausted sleep._

Combeferre

I was about to wake Enjolras from his fitful slumber when he sat bolt upright. He didn't scream; after so long behind his marble facade, he almost believed it himself, surpressing his basic instincts. He looked over at me. "'Ferre?"

"You were thrashing about in your sleep. I was worried about you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I had a strane dream. Too long listening to Courfeyrac's horror stories. Don't worry about me." His pale face went ashen as he studied a thin scar on his right wrist. "How did I get that, 'Ferre?"

"I can't remember, _cheri_. You've had it since you were little."

He nodded, relaxing slightly. An hour or so later, he was sat at his desk, sketching. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's my dream. The place seemed familiar, and I wanted to know if I can recognise it before I forget it."

I leant over his shoulder studying the sketch. It wasn't like Feuilly's effortless, natural talent, but it was good. Damn, the boy was brilliant at anything he turned his hand to. If he didn't seem so determined to become a martyr before he turned twenty five, he'd be as flawless as our friends made him out to be.

I looked closer at the drawing. "I know that place. That forest's out behind your families estate. That river's the one you fell in. People always dream about familiar places, even if the location doesn't match the theme."

"If you say so." He stood up, satisfied. "I should get ready. I have classes today. My parents expect me to sit for the bar this year."

"Of course. I don't want to distract you from your studies. I'll see you tonight, _cheri_. If you see Courfeyrac, tell him to behave. And look after yourself."

He rounded on me, ready to lose his temper. All I did was place a hand on his back, still red-raw and starting to scar. He glared at me, but nodded. "Understood."

As he left, he greeted someone at the door and let them in. "Hello? Who's there?"

"It's me. Montparnasse." I didn't trust him. No-one had ever convinced Enjolras to touch a drop of wine, let alone get him drunk. Even Grantaire's attempts to spike his coffee had been unsuccessful.

"Can I help you?"

"It's about Enjolras."

"And may I enquire as to what interest you have in my cousin? As you're no doubt aware, he's not at home." According to my friends, I speak overly formally when I distrust or dislike someone. It gives the other Amis no end of amusement to hear it.

"How is he?"

"Well, but you could ask him that yourself. What do you want?"

Montparnasse sighed. "There are rumors on the streets about him. I've heard tell that he's not who he says he is. That he's not Orion Enjolras."

I didn't know what I'd expected, but it wasn't this.

Cedille

I'd been keeping an eye on Enjolras and his gang. I was never quite sure whether to think of him as Enjolras or Valentin. I'd gone past pretending my informant was getting the reward for turning the group in, but I'd have to buy his silence. None of this was legal.

I knew Javert was not happy, and that he was still trying to find Valentin's address. I was not intending to tell him I had an informant who was close to his beloved son.

It seemed someone had overheard my last conversation with Montparnasse. She was a gamine girl, but not for long, as she'd apparently been given a share of Valen's ransom money. I met up with both of them, as the girl was obviously in this deal now.

"Can you give me the names yet? I especially want that cousin." I unconciously rubbed my wounded arm.

"Not yet. I'll give you nothing until our price is agreed, and my price is Enjolras."

"No. I mean it, you can't have him."

"And why not?" I didn't know how to explain it. When he was a little boy, Valen had been like a little pet to me, my ever adoring follower. Even if my puppy had grown into a wolf, he was still mine. The fact that his reappearance would prove I hadn't murdered him, I'd already served the time, so it held little consequence to me.

"Long story. I spent five years in prison for his murder. I wanted to clear my name."

"So, who is he?" the girl piped up, and my informant nodded his agreement.

"If he's not Orion Enjolras, what's his name? I like to do my research."

"His name's Valentin Javert. I always used to call him Valen."

"Javert? As in..."

"Yes. He's the police inspector's son."

"What happened to him? How did he end up as Orion Enjolras?"

I frowned as I cast my mind back to the last time I saw Valen. "It was a stupid game. He got hurt and panicked, and he ran away. I tried to find him, but he got lost. I went home covered in his blood. Javert put two and two together and ended up with about fifty. I got accused of murder. That's how I ended up in the Surete and not the force. The irony is that Javert never believed he was dead."

We were meeting in the front room of the cafe where the society met. I'd timed it perfectly, and Montparnasse ducked his head as a bright gold flash came through the door. He was talking to his cousin. Something the older brat said made him flick his hair impatiently. It was a familiar gesture, one of frustration that I'd drawn out from Valen a thousand times.

Montparnasse suddenly realised something. "What about his cousin? He denied the whole thing."

"Well, he would, wouldn't he? He's not really his cousin, obviously. Speaking of him, I owe him a bullet. I need to lure him in somehow. You two help me, and you earn five thousand each. You know this brat, so how do I do it?"

"Enjolr... I mean Valentin is the only one who he'd take such a risk for. But I don't think he should be left with you after last time."

I sighed angrily. This was going to be difficult.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Finally hit double figures! Quick shoutout to E if she hasn't given up in disgust in the face of my shamelessly obvious infatuation with Enjolras. Apologies again for my terrible information - I just found out I've been spelling laudanum wrong. Oops. Here we have a much less successful kidnap attempt by Montparnasse...**

Montparnasse

Ponine and I soon had a plan worked out with Cedille. We shared a common interest in that we both wanted Combeferre out of the way, but I wasn't willing to just hand Enjolras over. I still held out hope that he'd join us.

In the end, we'd agreed that Combeferre would undoubtedly hand himself over in return for Enjolras's safety. Enjolras himself would remain unharmed unless Combeferre resisted. We wouldn't even move him; he could stay in the back room.

Before going to join the meeting, I went back to Enjolras's flat and picked the lock. In Combeferre's medical bag was a bottle of laudanum. So long as Enjolras wasn't suspicious, it would take a few drops in his coffee and he'd be out like a light. Combeferre would come looking for him, and would run into Cedille. Combeferre would co-operate, his cousin would be released. Me and Ponine would remain anonymous.

I went back to the cafe, and got a glare for my lateness, but Enjolras seemed in an otherwise mellow mood. He was discussing hidden metaphors in poetry with that Jehan boy. Courfeyrac was attempting to plait his tied hair and was, so far, succeeding. I sat at the slightly overcrowded table, listening to the debate. After about ten minutes, I tapped Enjolras on the shoulder. "Coffee?" He merely nodded his thanks, still caught up in the debate with Jehan.

Outside the door, I added a large measure of laudanum to his drink. In ten minutes, he'd be yawning, in twenty he'd have fallen asleep on the table, just a 'natural' slumber.

To my relief, he wasn't suspicious. If Grantaire had bought him the drink, he might have sensed something was amiss, but he drank without question.

The conversation with Jehan tailed off, and Enjolras sank into his usual easy silence with Combeferre. Before long, his eyes flickered and his breathing slowed.

"Enjolras?" Combeferre gently shook him. I sighed.

"Let him be, he's fine. Grantaire isn't here to harrass him. I'll bring him home when he wakes up." Unwilling to disturb his peace, Combeferre agreed. When the Amis had left, Cedille and Ponine came in. Cedille crouched down next to Enjolras's seat.

"Valentin. Oh, my Valentin. I told you not to panic, and you didn't listen."

Eponine laughed. "How can you pretend you care about him? His cousin brought him back from you half dead."

"It was a mistake. I was angry. Haven't you ever hurt someone when you were angry?" Eponine hung her head, and I heard her mutter the word 'Cosette'. I snapped into action.

"Are we intending to argue until he wakes up? Come on." I looped a rope around Enjolras's wrists. I tied it securely, but not enought that it would tear the skin if he struggled.

"He'll be out of here in a few hours, no harm done. His little guard, on the other hand..." Cedille grinned wickedly.

"Enjolras isn't a fool. He'll shout for help as soon as he wakes up," I warned. Cedille nodded. He pulled Enjolras's cravat loose, tying it into a gag.

"No, Valen's not a fool. Let's just hope his 'cousin' is." I realised than that the five thousand francs could be about to make me an accessory to murder.

Javert

A week or so after Georges Cedille came to see me, I got a visit from a couple. The woman introduced herself first.

"Monsieur, my name is Christine Enjolras. You recently arrested my son, and me and my husband wish to know the charges."

_He's not your son_, I wanted to say. Cedille had confirmed that I'd arrested Valentin.

"Disturbance of the peace. He and another boy were stirring up trouble." The woman and her husband shared a glance.

"Aimery, no doubt. Boys will be boys. Officer, perhaps there is some way of overlooking this minor mishap?"

"He's a good boy, really. He and Aimery are just a little boisterous. I suppose they're even a little too much for my poor nephew," the man said, holding out a hand. I obediently shook it. "Andre Enjolras, at your service."

If I didn't agree, they'd take their offer elsewhere. Besides, the family were very closely related to royalty. What other choice did I have? "Consider it done."

"Thank you very much," Andre said. "Now onto more serious matters. A couple of months ago, my wife and I received this letter." The letter was a ransom note, and I recognised the signature.

"Patron-Minette." I hadn't realised Valentin had been the victim of that attack. I thought Cedille had him by that point. "Not to worry, monsieur. We've arrested all bar one of your son's attackers, and recovered two thirds of the money."

Christine shook her head. "Forget the money, we'll give it to Orion when we see him. This other attacker..."

This was my opportunity. "I fully intend to capture this man. I wish to interview your son, but he's proving difficult to track down. Could you perhaps tell me where to find him? I can deliver the money to him if you wish."

"Of course," Christine said. "Much to my regret, we can't stay, I promised my sister in law I'd bring her news of her own son. He lives at number sixteen on the Rue de Lierre, with his cousin, Julien Combeferre. And, if it's not too much trouble, can you return this to him?"

She handed me a crucifix, carved from silver and mahogany, a few links too new and shiny, obviously to repair a snapped chain. "Of course, madame. You needn't worry about your son's safety. You're closely related to the king; have you not thought of hiring him a guard?"

Andre smiled. "We've tried, but he trusts no-one except Julien."

"I'll have a couple of officers keep an eye on him, and we'll arrest his final attacker."

"Thank you very much, Inspector. _Au revoir_."

As the couple left, I looked down at the chair in my hand. It dispelled any last shred of doubt. Cedille had bought Valentin the crucifix as a present for his first communion. It wasn't a coincidence - it had been specially made. I had Valentin's address now. All I had to do was find him and tell him what I knew.

Grantaire

There was an advantage to going unnoticed. I'd left the revolutionaries to their talk, sitting instead in the front room of the cafe. When most of my friends had left, I saw a stranger go into the back room with Marius's gamine. She then left with Apollo's new friend, that Montparnasse.

The stranger was in the back room, and Apollo hadn't left. Silently - a difficult feat given my inebriation - I went down the passageway and hesitated outside the door.

There were voices. No, one voice. It must be the stranger, talking to Apollo. I tried to listen to the words. "It's alright, Valen. You don't remember me, I know that. The last two times we met, I scared you, and I hurt you, but you're my _petit_. I'll get your trust, and you can join the Surete. Between us, we could run France."

I opened the door then. The stranger jumped to his feet, wielding a pistol. Apollo was asleep, tied to a chair and gagged.

"You're not his watchdog."

"You mean 'Ferre? No, I merely worship at the altar of our beloved Apollo. As you're using him as a lure for his cousin, I assume he is unhurt?" I had a chance now to prove myself.

"Yes. Just unconcious. Laudanum."

"The gamine and our new friend are your informants, no doubt. What do you want with 'Ferre? After all, I can't tell anyone. No-one believes the Winecask."

"I owe him a bullet. Though perhaps I could shoot someone he loves instead." The pistol's aim played over Apollo, and I laughed.

"Apollo... no, what did you call him? Valen is far too valuable to be a petty revenge attack. You're not going to shoot him."

"No. My Valentin is safe. You, on the other hand..."

"His cousin would be all too happy if you killed me."

"The good must be innocent," he said mockingly. "How will he feel if someone else gets shot for him, especially someone he detests?"

I lunged forward and wrestled the gun from his grip. I heard it discharge, but barely noticed. He was unarmed, and I was a practiced boxer. A calculated blow to the side of the head, and he crumpled, out cold.

I untied Apollo, still unconcious. I wasn't a doctor, but I was fairly sure he'd been overdosed on the laudanum. I had to get him to Joly or Combeferre, and 'Ferre was nearest. When I lifted him, he was ridiculously light.

I'd saved him. If I told him, he'd be in my debt but it was honour enough to help him. Combeferre, on the other hand, I was all too happy to make suffer. When the gun had fired, the bullet had clipped my side. I had a cut and a burn, nothing serious, but enough to make Combeferre feel bad. I'd taken a bullet for him.

I easily got Apollo home, delighted that I'd done something useful for once. I left him in the arms of his bewildered cousin, explaining the best I could. I allowed Combeferre to alleviate some of his guilt by treating my wound, then went to get a well-deserved drink.

**A/N: Argh! Yet more inaccuracies. I've been reading A Passion For The Absolute, and, judging from the amount Courfeyrac takes in, it is extremely hard to have a dangerous overdose of laudanum, but I really don't want to rewrite everything because of it, so the inaccuracies will have to stay.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I finally have internet back! Quick explanation: mental breakdown time. E, if you don't like it, I promise more violence soon.**

Combeferre

Enjolras's stomach heaved and he groaned, his pale face damp with sweat. I swept back his hair and held him while he retched, trying to soothe him.

"It's alright, _cheri_. You're just expelling the drug from your system. You'll be ill for a day or two, but no long-lasting effects. Whoever dosed you was either a fool, or trying to poison you."

He collapsed against me, his only response to moan softly. I hadn't told him the identity of either his betrayer or his saviour, and I wasn't intending to when he was in such a fevered state.

Grantaire had asked me to remain silent, which surprised me. I thought he'd be ecstatic to have Enjolras owing him, but seemed perfectly content to have me indebted to him.

He'd laid Enjolras in bed, warned me that he'd been overdosed, and told me that he'd been shot. As I treated him, he turned to me and asked "Who's Valentin?"

"I don't know anyone by that name. Why?"

"The stranger, the one working with Montparnasse, he called Apollo Valentin. I thought if anyone knew why, you would."

"I'm sorry, but I've got no idea." After that, Grantaire had left.

Now Enjolras was lying in my arms, half-concious, trembling and fevered. He'd recover in no time, but for now, he needed care. I combed back his damp hair and spoke softly. "Enjolras?"

"Uh-huh?"

"_Cheri_, do you know anyone called Valentin?"

"I... me. I'm Valentin. I had a dream once where I was Valentin." I wondered if he was delirious, and realised I'd picked the worst possible time to interrogate him.

"Alright. Don't worry about it." I pressed a cold cloth to his forehead and let him drift off to sleep.

A day and a half later, his fever had broken, and he was refusing to rest. No sign of weakness, always. I still hesitated to tell him that he'd been betrayed by Montparnasse. He trusted him, and I didn't want to be responsible for ruining that.

Enjolras was getting ready to go to the cafe. "So," he said. "Someone drugged my drink?"

"It would appear so. Could it have been Grantaire?" I wanted it to be R, for him to be lying, an elaborate game to ensnare Enjolras. It was much easier to believe.

"Couldn't have been. He left earlier. It could have been anyone, or even a mistake. We do have enemies, 'Ferre."

"I suppose. It doesn't matter either way. You're fine now." He didn't have to know he was the bait in the trap, undoubtedly set by Cedille.

"I'd best go. Courfeyrac tells me that Joly's sure I'm dying of consumption rather than recovering from a mere fever."

He was stopped in his tracks by a knock on the door. I opened it to reveal the inspector who'd arrested Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

"Can I help you, monsieur? I assure you, if you're looking for a criminal, this is the wrong place. If not, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to see my son."

Enjolras

The inspector looked at me when he spoke. "I'm sorry? You must have the wrong address, there's only the two of us here."

"I know this is the right address. I know this is difficult to believe, but you, you are my son."

"No. This is some kind of joke. My parents are Christine and Andre Enjolras."

"Actually..." Combeferre spoke up. "Actually, they're not."

"I'm sorry?" Combeferre hesitated, but didn't resist.

"Enjolras, I'm sorry, I swore I'd never tell you. The real Orion Enjolras died eight years ago. Then we found you, abandoned, hurt, alone, and my aunt and uncle swore no other parent should suffer as they had, so they looked after you, helped you recover. When you woke up and you couldn't remember anything, it was the perfect opportunity. You were their second chance."

"This isn't real. This is a dream."

"It's not, _cheri_, and I'm so, so sorry but please, Enjolras, listen to me. Christine and Andre love you more than anything. They saved you, and you are their son. You're my cousin. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true."

It couldn't be true. I dropped to my knees. The inspector put a tentative hand on my shoulder and I flinched. "Wh- If you really are my father, what happened to me?"

"I don't know. You vanished. I was told you were dead. A man was convicted of your murder, a man named Georges..."

"Cedille." He nodded.

"Do you know him?" I lifted the back of my shirt, exposing the scarred skin and heard the inspector gasp. My memory went back to a dream I'd had.

"Georges... Then I really am Valentin?" The inspector nodded. "I-I don't know what to think."

Javert looked a little unsure. "I didn't want to cause any trouble. I just wanted to know for sure that you really were Valentin. You were just twelve, and I've been searching for seven years."

"Seven years? So I'm not twenty one? I'm..."

Javert nodded. "Nineteen and a half. Your birthday is May fifteenth, 1812." He sat down beside me, and Combeferre tensed.

"I don't want to take you away from your family. As far as you know, you're an Enjolras, and they obviously care greatly about you, present company included. I'm not going to ask you to denounce them. I just wanted you to know. Can I leave this to you?" He looked up at Combeferre who put an arm around my shoulders.

"'Ferre, I don't know what to do."

"Don't panic, _cheri_. This changes nothing, understand me? Whether you're Valentin Javert or Orion Enjolras, you're the only son Auntie and Uncle have, and they'll look after you, always. C... can you forgive me for lying and keeping it secret?" I nodded mutely, not trusting my mouth.

"I'm sorry it's taken so long, Valentin." Javert put an envelope on the floor before me. "Your parents asked me to give you the reclaimed ransom money. And this is yours." On top of the envelope sat a familiar wooden cross. I sat still, unmoving, unsure of what to do.

Christine

After a long time of me pestering him Orion came home for a visit. He came alone, which worried me slightly.

"What's wrong? Have you had an argument with Julien?"

"No, maman, it's nothing like that. I just needed a bit of a break from Paris, and Julien couldn't make it."

"If you're sure." His pale skin had a waxy pallor to it, and there were huge dark circles under his eyes.

"You're ill, my baby. Don't try to convince me otherwise. You're staying in the country for a while, get that harsh Parisian air out of your lungs. No work while you're here. You need to relax."

"I'm fine maman." He pulled away. "I'll stay a few days but I must go soon. Julien will look after me."

"Hush, my little one. Your father's at work, but he'll be back soon. With all due respect, Julien isn't yet qualified. It's almost Christmas anyway, and your birthday. I mean it , my love, you're not well."

I wouldn't expect no for an answer. Orion needed time to rest and recuperate. When I set him to bed, I wrote to Julien, asking if he'd had any recent illness. I told him that he'd be staying at home for a while, and that I didn't think Paris was doing him much good.

Andre arrived home after an hour or so. "Has Orion arrived yet?"

"He's asleep. I don't think he's in best health."

"Have you convinced him to stay? I assume you'll want him here until Twelfth Night."

"Of course. Don't you?"

"Yes, I do, but if he wants to leave, I won't force him to stay. He has people to watch out for him in Paris."

"Very well. At the very least, he's staying until he recovers from whatever's ailing him."

"Undoubtedly. I'll try to get him to stay for Christmas though, for you." I smiled.

"I'm going up to see him. He's a student, so I highly doubt that boy eats enough. It's a good thing Imelda still works in the kitchens, she could always get him to eat."

When Orion was fourteen, after the accident, he'd spent moths wasting away, and we'd worried he wouldn't survive. Then we'd hired Imelda, and she'd coaxed him into eating fed him up, and he'd built up his strength again.

I took him up a bowl of broth and sat on the edge of his bed. He was awake, but only just.

"Maman?"

"I'm here, my love. What's wrong?"

"I've been talking to people in Paris, about all sorts of things, but I managed to find some things out. I just need confirmation from you and Papa, then I know for sure it's true."

"I won't lie."

"You're not my real parents, are you?"


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Finally got round to this chapter. Never finished the first draft, so should be fun. Including Jehan for my little sis (henceforth known as Johanna Prouvaire), and Christmas for E (who thought Javert really was Enjolras's dad in the novel). Here goes. Oh, and for the incredibly dim, Dr Combeferre is obviously Julien Combeferre's father.**

Montparnasse

Enjolras had, once again, vanished. The Amis were in various states of exaggeration over what had happened to him. I asked Courfeyrac first.

"He's being held hostage by his parents." I winced at his choice of words, but he didn't notice and continued. "If his mother has her way, he'll be engaged when he comes back."

Joly groaned. "That's rubbish, Courfeyrac. She hasn't managed it yet, so she's not going to. Besides, he's gone to the country for his health. He must be seriously ill if 'Ferre can't treat him."

Combeferre looked up with a disdainful sigh, so similar to the Fearless Leader's that it made some of them jump, almost as if he'd suddenly appeared. "Courfeyrac, he hasn't been kidnapped, he's gone home for the holidays like a lot of you are due to. And no, he isn't in best health, but it's nothing life-threatening. Everything considered, it's hardly a surprise. He'll be back in a few weeks, perfectly healthy and still uncommitted."

"Except to Patria," Courfeyrac pointed out, prompting a smile from Combeferre, that was soon replaced by a frown.

"He has a lot to discuss with his parents." The news of his discovery had spread quickly, and the Amis looked ashamed for a moment.

When I'd last seen Enjolras, about a week ago, he'd been on the verge of a mental breakdown. Considering that in the space of a few months, we'd kidnapped him, Cedille had attacked him, I'd accidentally poisoned him and he'd found out he wasn't who he thought he was, making fourteen - or was it twelve now? - years of missing memory crucial, I'm surprised it took him this long to lose the plot.

Combeferre tapped my shoulder. "'Parnasse, could I have a word, in private?" I followed him out in the corridor.

"What's wrong?"

"If I know my aunt, Enjolras will be back about a week after Twelfth Night. You better yourself scarce before then."

I drew myself up to my full height. He was the elder, but I was taller and had the advantage of years of street experience. "Why would I do that?"

"You think I don't know? How could I not find out you had a part in it?"

Oh damn. How in God's name did he find out we sold him to Cedille? If it was Eponine, I was going to kill her. "Look, Ferre, I'm sorry, but I never meant it to go so far. I'm sorry, just don't tell him. I thought he'd remember, that I'd be ruined."

"What?"

The word, cold as ice, seemed to hang in the air for a moment. I'd never seen Combeferre as the sort to have an icy burst of anger. "I meant what happened with Grantaire, but that's obviously not all you were involved in."

I swore loudly. "No, Combeferre, listen..."

"You held him for ransom. You handed Enjolras over to Cedille."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I think he's suffered enough at your hands. Leave now, and I will keep quiet, and not tell Enjolras or his father who, coincidentally, is the head of the Parisian police force."

"Combeferre, I'm sorry..."

"I don't care. Get out, and don't you dare come back."

"No. I stay because I care about what you have to say. If it makes you feel better, I'll pay him back every centime, whatever it takes."

A load of rubbish. I wanted someone smaller, easier to push around, lower in the heirarchy than me. I was sick of being the baby of Patron-Minette. I might have been younger than Enjolras, but Thenardier's son had more experience on the streets. He'd do as he was told, or end up getting himself killed.

Combeferre wasn't buying it. "Get. Out."

I left, with absolutely no intention to stay away.

**(A/N: Apologies to fellow Monty fangirls. I love him too, but he **_**is**_** a member of Patron-Minette. Therefore, like the rest, he is an idiot and gets himself into trouble. Be thankful it was only Combeferre he let slip to and not Javvie.)**

Dr Combeferre

Julien had told me mid-November sometime that he couldn't make it home for Christmas. My wife Isabelle and I would be spending Christmas day with Isabelle's brother and his wife. One day in early December, my wife's brother came to visit me.

"Andre? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I thought I'd inform you that Orion has made it home for the season."

"Really?"

"I don't think he was intending to stay, especially as Julien is still in Paris, but you know what Christine's like. She won't let him go home." Andre smiled.

"So how is he?" His smiled faded.

"That's why I'm here. He's not well. I don't think it's anything overly serious, but Christine's worried about him. I was hoping you'd give us a medical opinion."

"Of course. You're family." I went with Andre back to his estate, and up to Orion's room. He was sat in the window seat reading, his hand covering all bar two of the gilt letters on the spine.

"Robespierre?" I guessed, and he shook his head.

"Rosseau," he corrected, looking up. "Hello, uncle."

"Afternoon, Orion. I hope you and my Julien have been looking after each other."

"We have." He sighed. "I'm assuming it's down to my mother that you're here."

"Your father, actually. May I?" He sat back and let me examine him with an air of bored annoyance. When I'd finished, he looked up at me expectantly.

"So? Am I dying of the plague, or is everyone overreacting, Julien included?"

"As far as I remember, Julien is a doctor. His work is worrying about people. I'd much prefer him caring too much to too little. But, you're right. Provided you get some rest, you'll be fine. No doubt you're prone to influenza at this time of year, but don't worry, your parents will look after you."

He nodded, undoubtedly hearing exactly what he'd expected, and returned to the window seat. I left him in peace, finding his worried parents downstairs. Christine spoke first. "How is he?"

"You know him, he'll live. He's hardly the sort to die in bed. But what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"He only gets ill after an emotional upheaval. Probably linked to shock." Andre sighed.

"Well, he found out about his namesake." It was sometimes difficult to remember that Orion wasn't really my nephew. I explained exactly what was wrong with him, so they'd know what to do.

"Of course. Well, he's exhausted and slightly undernourished, but I'm sure you'll deal with that. According to Julien, he's an insomniac, but suffers no ill effect from it. Don't try and feed him too much at once because if he has been starving himself, however unintentionally, he should be gradually readjusted, or it could make him sick. I'd normally prescribe something for his sleeping, but if this is a long term issue, he could become a dependent. Besides, it's obviously not causing any problems until this happened, so I won't fix what isn't broken. Keep him out of the cold, as his immune system is no doubt weak right now. Luckily it's warm down here all year round. Coincidentally, how did he found out?"

Andre replied. "His real father came for him. Apparently he explained how he ended up half dead in the forest, and according to Julien, it was reasonable enough that he couldn't lie. I'm glad he didn't. It's better than hiding it from him. And, if he wants to be with his real father, we won't stop him. But even if he asks us to stop calling him our son, we can still claim that he's our heir. This changes nothing."

That much I knew to be true. As soon as he was back in Paris, Orion would be exactly the same as he'd always been.

Jehan

I met up with 'Ferre, Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Montparnasse. Bahorel had gone home to Bordeaux, Lesgle had dragged Joly to Meaux, Enjolras was in Marseilles and Feuilly had found a bit of work in Rennes for a month or so. Marius was in Paris, but he'd negelcted to join us for a drink.

The five of us met in a cafe on _veille de Noel_. "So," I asked. "Any news from any of the others?"

Courfeyrac laughed. "God, I don't think we'll be seeing Bahorel for a while, due to the perks of living in Bordeaux. His parents have just bought a vineyard."

"Lucky," Grantaire said. 'Ferre glared at him, but seemed to be in high spirits, and I thought I knew why.

"You're awfully cheerful, Combeferre. I take it that you've heard from our Fearless Leader, no?"

"Yes, I got a letter yesterday." We'd had a bet on why he hadn't returned. I said he'd found a girl. As much as people like to think otherwise, he is human, and will fall in love sooner or later. Joly condemned him, saying that he'd caught some terrible disease while out campaigning. Courfeyrac stuck to his original idea that his mother was keeping him there."

"So who wins?" Combeferre smiled and read from Enjolras's letter.

"_Definitely feeling better, and the weather is brilliant down here. I would have come back to Paris for Christmas, but Maman's practically holding me prisoner."_

"Yes!" Courfeyrac jumped to his feet, smiling. "Pay up, Jehan. I win. Like Enjolras is going to abandon us all for some southern grisette."

"It could have happened," I said indignantly. I was as likely to give up on his love life as Courfeyrac was on his fashion sense. Grantaire, as he did whenever Enjolras was mentioned, got philosophical and started spouting mythology references.

"Unsurprising, that as we suffer the ice of Demeter's seperation of Persephone, Apollo remains in the sun." I could sometimes swear that Grantaire was half in love with Enjolras. Combeferre just glared at him, the only one to completely share our leader's disdain.

"No. It's irony that one who does his best to appear cold manages to avoid the cold. Besides, while I doubt he envies us being in the snow, I wouldn't give it up for anything."

"Oh, God, here he goes," Courfeyrac laughed, and I offered him a mock wounded look.

"I'm serious, though. The snow is beautiful and white, pure. And in the end, it fades and life comes back. The plants make everything green again."

"Not in Paris," Courfeyrac interrupted again. I played my trump card.

"Even Enjolras believes it's a good metaphor for the cause."

"Jehan, _mon petit ami_, I'll be more impressed when you get him sat gazing at flowers with absolutely no thought of the revolution. Besides, I think Grantaire's closer to the truth, though not exactly there. Try and give us all Greek gods, Jehan, you're the poet."

"Fine. Grantaire, Dionysus. Obviously. Combeferre is Athena, wise. You, Courfeyrac, are Hera, the centre. You bring us all together. Bahorel is Hermes, the messenger. Enjolras is obviously Apollo. No, wait, Zeus. Oh, I don't know. Greek mythology is R's specialty."

Courfeyrac smiled. He was probably quite drunk by this point, but his flamboyance when sober made it hard to tell the difference between inebriation and sobriety. "I think they're all right. But look at it this way. It is Christmas. It is snowing and cold. Therefore, one of our five absent friends, not including Marius, who's still in Paris, is Persephone, and has returned to Hades. Let's see who makes the sun come back when they return."

I picked up my glass. "Never mind that now. To Christmas, to the future and to absent friends. May they all return safely." We drank deeply and dissolved into chatter, staying up until dawn and welcoming Christmas day.

**A/N: More Christmas next chapter, I promise, and the other Amis coming back to Paris**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: First update in a while, working on three other fics. No more Xmas, by the way, I promised a death soon, and E is tired of waiting. So, this chapter introduces Christina. Semi OC, she's based on a real girl that E and I were annoyed at, but with our twisted imaginations, any form of revenge for her b****iness would be severely illegal, so this will have to do... Sorry if that offends anyone.**

Montparnasse

No-one had told me. It had been the exact same plan as the first time, even having to use Thenardier's brat, that Gavroche boy. And yet, no-one had seen fit to tell me that Patron-Minette had escaped from prison again. I had to come up with something, and fast. After all, I'd left them to their fate.

Fate seemed like the perfect word to describe Enjolras's return. Just in time. I'd go to the others, hands held up in surrender, and offer them up a sacrifice of sorts, fresh blood. I could deal with Combeferre, that was easy enough. Trusting, naive, lost little boy that he was, Enjolras would blindly accept any guide that offered a hand. Ironic, really, that the one so devoted to his ideals could be so easy to lead away.

After all, we wanted his _égalité_ too, we just weren't naive enough to believe we could make the massive difference Enjolras dreamed of. We picked a pocket here and there. Through doing so, the rich man was humbled and became closer to the commoner, and those in the deepest darkness of the slums could rise a little higher.

I was pondering this, walking through Parisian alleyways as casually as an aristo walked in the Jardins aux Luxembourg. Suddenly, someone slammed me into the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're... oh." I looked up into the face of Claquesous.

"Fancy seeing you here. We got locked away. You didn't. You'd better have a damned good reason for deserting us."

"I thought self-preservation was how people got by in this place?" Claquesous snarled. "Alright, I'm sorry, you're right. I've been scouting. A promising new recruit, but challenging. Just returned from the south."

He suddenly looked interested, releasing me. "Challenging? How?"

"A little naive. Still believes the world will bow to his will if he applies a little pressure. If we prove his ideals worthless, he'll break. Another little Patron-Minette hellion for you to boss around." Claquesous smiled.

"Alright then. Ten o'clock tomorrow night, bring the kid here, and all is forgiven. Any information who ratted us out?"

What could I tell him? That Eponine had told her baron, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut. The others would hunt down anyone who'd passed on the message to someone else, leaving a bloody trail, one that our latest recruit would not follow.

"No idea. Tomorrow."

I made my way over to the apartment that Enjolras and Combeferre shared. Courfeyrac was chattering away nineteen to the dozen, and Combeferre wasn't at home. Enjolras watched his friend with a now-familiar air of cool amusement. In the end, Courfeyrac flung his arms around Enjolras in an enthusiastic embrace. "You look much better now. Don't you think, 'Parnasse? He doesn't look sick anymore."

That much was true. It no longer looked like he'd snap at the slightest movement. It was the perfect opportunity. "I propose we celebrate your return. Come out with us tomorrow night. Jump headfirst back into Paris."

"Perhaps. I'll make it to the Musain at least. Until then, though, I'd like to rest. It's been a long journey."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then. G'night, Courfeyrac."

One more night. That was all.

Christina

Mlle Eponine was pacing up and down unhappily. She looked the lady now, in fine silk and velvet, her hair tied in some intricate style. I looked into her big mirror, trying to compare myself to her. She told me that if I did as I was told, she'd reward me, give me money and make me into a lady.

Until then, I was plain old Christina Barteaux. But maybe soon, I wouldn't have to walk the streets for a living. I was sick of people taunting me about my red hair as well, claiming I was some demon-spawn. Maybe I should hide it under a wig, blonde, maybe, or a nice brunette like Mlle Eponine.

With a sigh, she sat at her dressing table and started speaking aloud. "It's a difficult situation, Chrissie, that's for sure. 'Parnasse is up to something stupid. I'd usually let him have that bloody rich aristo brat, but he's Monsieur Marius's friend. The leader of his revolution. I doubt Monsieur Marius would be happy if his friend died or became scum like 'Parnasse, Papa and the rest."

I gave a sigh. Mlle Eponine had the money and looks to get any man she wanted, but the one she wanted had another fixation. I just murmured something in agreement. I was sick to death of her 'Monsieur Marius'.

"Ah, but that's not all." She paused, either for effect or gathering her thoughts. "That brat isn't an aristo by birth. His father is a policeman, _that_ policeman, who's been searching for his son for seven years. If he found out what 'Parnasse and the others were doing, they'll all end up back inside. Plus previous charges, and escape attempts. They'll be in there for a long time."

Mlle Eponine looked at me. "It's best for everyone. You have to stop this, Chrissie."

"Me?" I squeaked. I'd only known Mlle Eponine for a few months, I didn't want to be caught up in all of this.

"Who else? If I stop their foolish madness, they'll know it's me and hunt me down. You can hide, Chrissie. This is the last job. After this, five thousand francs, yes?"

I nodded, dumbfounded. I needed that money. All I had to do was distract this kid, whoever he was.

"Easy to see," Mlle Eponine told me. "Tall, blonde, blue eyes. You won't miss him. Just stop him."

I agreed and slid out into the streets. Only a little longer, and I could buy a soft, warm bed, never have to think about the inky blackness of Paris at midnight again.

Enjolras

I pushed out of the backroom of the cafe. I'd missed it, but the cramped, smoky space was too much. I needed to breathe. I heard the door, someone coming after me.

"Do you regret coming back here?" Montparnasse. "I mean, your parents would keep you safe, give you anything. Why come back to Paris?" I smiled. Was it really that difficult a concept to understand.

"I had to. I have to lead. And yes, I know I'll get myself killed. That never really worried me. But if the sacrificial lamb can pose of the priest of the ideal for long enough, my death might bring about change. Besides, I don't exactly have a home to go to."

It sounded so childish, so clichéd, but it was true. My parents' son had died years ago. I couldn't be the son my real father wanted. All I had was here, now. I'd broken, but now I'd been fixed, I couldn't crumble again. Take everything as it comes, prepare for the worst, always. That's what I needed to be in charge.

"You're strange," Montparnasse told me.

"How so?"

"You're scarcely older than me, and yet you talk like you've got the wisdom of generation upon generation in your mind." I gave a laugh at that.

"I only wish. Maybe if I had the experience of those before us, I'd not make so many mistakes." We started walking, heading heaven-knew-where. We walked in companionable silence, until Montparnasse suddenly stopped.

"Why do you have so much faith in this Utopia?"

"Because until we are strong enough to act, faith is all we have. Dawn always comes. We just have to make it through the darkest hour."

"A pretty speech, but it won't help you when you've got the Garde ripping you to pieces."

"Perhaps not," I agreed, "But the sight of blood stirs people. Maybe my friends, if they will not fight for Patria, will show a little pity for their fallen comrade."

A bitter laugh. "Most of them will lay their lives to protect their Fearless Leader, but there are far too few of you left."

"Few of me?" I was more than a little confused.

"You and your little friends. But there's two types of people. The good and innocent like you. You're far too naive. You overestimate that most are like you, the world is essentially good, that they will support you. And then there's the rest of the world, who scorn your optimism, who'll laugh when you fall."

I tensed. I'd heard countless people throughout the years trying to convince me to give up. No-one had yet managed it. "Maybe you're right. But at least while there is some good left, and my friends are near, I can and will fight."

"Oh, but are your friends near? Your own deputy is keeping secrets. Your most trusted friend, your cousin. He lied about who you were, what else is he concealing?"

I reeled back in shock. I could trust Combeferre. Julien had never once betrayed my trust. _He let you believe you were Orion_. To help me, I told myself. Julien would never betray me. Before I could release a cutting retort, a girl slammed into me. Wild red hair, almost manic brown eyes.

"Run, monsieur! He's one of Patron-Minette! They're evil, monsieur, leave, as fast as you can." The terror in her voice convinced me to run. The young woman looked up at me, and her eyes widened. I gently touched her arm.

"You should leave too, Mademoiselle. Go." With one last look at Montparnasse, who was furious, I ran.

**A/N: Not my best work, but I'm on a deadline. Next chapter up tomorrow, promise. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Happy Halloween to all! As I post this, I'm all dressed up as a certain golden-haired revolutionary in an attempt to liberate the neighbourhood sweets :-) This chapter has both gore and angst, because my brain is messed up, and I couldn't stand to leave a character completely alone. Kind of like Little Fall of Rain/Eponine's Death. Also, first time where I give one character two POVs in the space of one chapter, couldn't think of how to work it any other way. Apologies if anyone finds this scene gross and thinks it should be rated M. But, in my defence, E dictated what would happen for the first bit. Here goes.**

Montparnasse

Stupid girl. Claquesous was going to kill me. Eponine's bratty little friend had ruined everything. No doubt Thenardier's oldest brat was behind it, and I'd be going after her next. A slightly more rational person might have tried to convince Enjolras that it was nonsense, but that didn't matter now.

I pushed her into the wall, knife against her throat. She babbled on at me, blaming Eponine, begging for her life. "Shut up!"

She fell silent, looking up at me. Did she think I'd relent? I'd been committing murder since I was sixteen years old, and no-one had ever suceeded in talking me round.

"Do you know what you've done? That kid was the only chance I had of convincing Claquesous that I was still loyal. You ruined that so I will ruin you." One carefully placed hand, and one quick movement snapped one of her fingers. She shrieked. "It will be slow and painful, do you understand? And if it makes you feel better, 'Mlle Eponine' is next." Another finger, another shriek. Then another. Not enough.

I pulled out my knife. "I think the best way is too make you bleed to death, but how should I do that? Slit your wrist?"

I thrust the blade into her arm, not to sever a blood vessel, but to make her scream again. She obliged, and I felt the blade scrape nerve and bone. She'd never use that arm again. Not that she had much longer to try.

"Oh, don't look up at me with all big, sad eyes girl. It changes nothing." I carefully positioned the blade to deal with that problem. Claquesous had been training me in this technique for three years. It was my first time actually attempting it. With a quick flick of the wrist, I pierced her left eye. The shriek was deafening. I punched her to shut her up, a hard hit to her chest that cracked one or two of her brittle ribs.

"Fine. Obviously I have to do it this way."

One quick cut, barely scraping the jugular, but enough to make her bleed to death slowly. She dropped to the floor, clutching her bloody, sightless eye.

"This is what happens when you try to mess with a murderer. Send my regards to _le diable_." I heard footsteps and retreated to the shadows.

Enjolras

I thought the girl was right behind me. When I turned to find her missing, I knew I had to go back. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe the girl was drunk. I went back to the street we'd been at, and saw a figure on the ground. A figure with matted red hair. I crouched down beside the girl.

"Mademoiselle? Can you hear me?" She was still breathing. I tried to lift her a little. She twisted in my grip, and I was sickened to see that one of her eyes had been gouged out. It was too much of a coincidence. Montparnasse really was in league with Patron-Minette.

The girl looked up at me."Wh-Who are you?" she croaked. "Am I dead? Are you an angel?"

"No, I'm not an angel."

"I thought not. Sinners don't meet angels." I felt a surge of pity, and cursed myself. The one time I truly needed Combeferre, I'd run off and left him at the cafe. With a shock of guilt, I realised this had been a result of trying to warn me. What had I done?

"Hang on, I'll get help. What's your name?"

"Christina, but don't go away. I'd rather be on my deathbed near an angel than on my own." I didn't contradict her. After all, she was dying. It was so bitterly real, not the terrifying nightmares I had when I thought of the upcoming revolution. This was somehow so much worse.

"No," I said, half to myself. "Be positive. You can hold on. Please." Christina's good eye filled with tears. "You saved me. How can I repay that debt?"

"Let me think about it. But you need to see Eponine, she saved you, she sent me." Eponine... she was the young gamine that followed Marius around. Why would she try and stop whatever Montparnasse was up to? I had to find out.

"I know you said you're not, but you really look like an angel." I went along with it, to comfort the dying girl.

"I have a friend who calls me Apollo." She smiled, but then gave a harsh cough, choking on blood that splattered the floor.

"I know how you can repay the debt, angel. I'm dying, and I've done some bad things. Can you take my sins away? I may not be deserving, but it's worth a try."

I was no priest, I couldn't absolve her of her sins, but I could pray for her forgiveness. But I didn't want to disappoint her. I gently kissed her forehead. "You're free," I told her. "I'm sorry, and I hope you can forgive me for this. Things will change soon, this will never happen again, we'll fight in your name. It's the least I can do. You're the first sacrifice of the cause."

"I like that. I'll watch over you, angel." Another cough, another spray of blood. This was heartbreaking to watch, but I couldn't leave her. "Can you kiss me again? It's been so long since someone actually cared enough to kiss me."

If I told Courfeyrac I'd been kissing a girl, he'd never understand. This here wasn't about romance, or lust, or even love. It was the final request of a condemned soul, and not my place to deny that request. I pressed my lips to the girl's forehead again. She suddenly stilled. It was over.

I released her body, just another lost soul in the backstreets of Paris. Shocked and grief-stricken, for the first time in years, I knelt on the floor and cried.

Montparnasse

I'd watched the whole exchange from the shadows. And afterwards, the bloodstained 'angel' weeping over the body of a fallen sinner, a nobody. Pitiful.

"Difficult, isn't it? You can't even face the death of a stranger. Soon enough, your friends will die for you. If you break down for each one of them, you'll be dead in an instant."

He'd sprung to his feet at the first sound of my voice. There were tear-tracks on his cheeks, but purely blazing anger in his eyes. "Murderer. You had no reason to kill her."

"Look it was either her or me, at which point Patron-Minette would come after their promised fresh meat. Now come on. Forget this girl, come with me. Both of our lives are at stake."

In lieu of a response, he lunged and grabbed my knife, faster than I'd been prepared for. He was undoubtedly a fencer, a boxer, trained in any combat he could actually be taught, but he doesn't understand our dirty fighting. I'd always learnt never to fight enraged. Rage heightens strength but dulls accuracy and speed. And rage was obviously a dominant trait in my firebrand opponent.

"At least tell me why you killed her like that." What did the boy expect me to say? It was fun?

"She learnt her lesson."

"Now you'll learn yours."

He fought well. I'd underestimated him. I couldn't help but admire it."Where the hell does an aristo brat learn to fight like that?"

"Friends of mine. Bahorel taught me a few basic tricks about fighting dirty. And Combeferre taught me to seperate emotion from reaction." I looked a little closer, and it was true enough. Eyes burning, but cool enough to freeze a flame.

He took advantage of my distraction and pushed me up to the wall, knife against my throat. "Go on, then. The great Golden Leader, revolutionary angel, taking his first life. Imagine if your friends could see you in tears over a whore."

The knife flashed, and there was a sting on my cheek. He didn't have the guts to kill me. "Coward. I thought you were going to avenge the girl's death."

"I will. But only a coward kills a defenceless opponent."

"You're spineless. You don't have the nerve to kill anyone."

"We'll see about that." I was not going to let that boy outdo me, self righteous and conceited. Leaing him with the knife as evidence, I hit him, a crushing blow that left him out cold, kicked the body beside him and walked calmly away.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I think E's given up hope on this story, but we know how it's going to end, and she's going to help me with the sequel. Maybe. If I don't scare her off. As a result, I'm not sending her the link to future chapters, as I am considering reintroducing a slash element. (In case E is still reading it's an option, not definite.) So, if you are against slash, my apologies. I am introducing another murder in this chapter and am considering bumping off Azelma...**

**I've only just realised my French geography is terrible. Versailles has an S on the end. Marseille doesn't.**

**I've seen the Les Mis movie trailer. So excited! **

Combeferre

Enjolras's anger had never been violent. It was cold and calm and quiet, and an angry glare alone could make a man back down. So I didn't know how to react when he stormed back into the flat, ranting on about Montparnasse, and some girl named Christina. His anger was shocking enough that it took me a moment to release he was covered in blood.

"Enjolras, what on earth happened to you?" He shook his head, and I started to wonder if he was in a state of shock. He dropped something, and it made me jump back. I'd never been afraid of my friend until he dropped a knife, slick with blood, onto the floor. "What the hell have you done?"

"He killed her, I had to do something." Had he finally snapped? My blood ran cold as I realised he may just have comitted murder.

"You're not making any sense. Start from the beginning. You and Montparnasse disappeared hours ago."

"It was that long? I thought I was only out a few minutes." He rubbed his forehead, smearing a smudge of dark bruising with blood.

"Just explain."

For a man I believed on the verge of insanity, his speech was clear and lucid as always. "I left the cafe. It was too hot, too stuffy. I was with Montparnasse, and we were just walking. Talking, just the same as I would with any of you. Out of nowhere, a girl came and told me that he was in league with Patron-Minette. She told me to run, and I did. I thought she was behind me, but she wasn't so I went back for her. He'd attacked her, killed her." He took a shaky breath, but regained his composure. "That girl died in my arms. She died because she tried to save me. And he was taunting me, and I couldn't let her murder pass."

"_Mon dieu,_ Enjolras. You killed him?" He shook his head.

"I could have. I had him, knife in hand, powerless. I could have slit his throat and walked away. I should have. But I didn't. I couldn't do it. I barely even cut him. He hit me and I passed out. When I came to, I came home."

"So the blood..."

"Not mine or his. Hers. Christina's."

"What on earth possessed you to bring the knife back with you?"

"I have to go to the police."

"Are you serious? You can't go like that. Enjolras, you're covered in blood."

"I can't wait around, Combeferre. Montparnasse will try to run. If I don't go now, he'll get away free. Hes not finished, he'll kill again."

"Enjolras, please, wait!" Without another word, he picked up the knife and left.

Montparnasse

It turned out the money that Eponine had 'inherited' from her father meant she had rather more followers than I remembered. A group of eager, willing idiots, doing her dirty work for a franc a day. Loyal too, likely as not, but I hoped I'd be able to change that with a little... persuasion.

I'd managed to acquire two small knives. Both felt unfamiliar in my hand, but it would be worth it if I could pin the blame on Enjolras. I had a feeling that I'd need a new blade for each job, to ensure no-one could trace it back to me. Yes, officer, I carry a weapon for my protection. No, officer, that's not mine, I still have mine.

I managed to corner one of Eponine's devoted gamines. From her terrified expression, she'd been warned to watch out for me. I vaguely recognised her; she used to do the bidding of Patron-Minette before Eponine had bought her out. She tried to act calm, but her voice was overly high and her hands were trembling.

"Monsieur! What are you doing here? I haven't seen you for a while."

"Where's Thenardier?"

"Which one, monsieur?"

"Don't get picky, you know exactly who I mean. Where is she?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know, monsieur." I pulled the knife, and her eyes widened at me, panicking.

"Monsieur, I really don't know! She knows you're trying to find her, so she never stays in one place long enough to be found." Not as loyal as I thought, then. Usually it took a bit more persuasion. "I... I know where Azelma is, though. She stays on the Rue de la Paix."

Azelma. Thenardier's youngest girl, just sixteen. I quite liked Azelma. It was a cruel attempt for the brat to save her own life, and she'd suffer for it. Then again, if Azelma died, it might be the lesson that Eponine needed. She'd ruined my chances with Patron-Minette, and I'd make her pay.

The girl before me could see the look in my eyes. "Please, monsieur, that's all I know, I swear."

"You tried to condemn poor little Azelma to save yourself. That's low. Criminals aren't supposed to snitch, especially when Azelma isn't really a criminal yet. So you're going to get what a snitch deserves." I studied the wall behind her. I reckoned the knife would stick. I took her wrist.

In one movement, I pinned her wrist against the wall and placed the knife blade there. I'd stolen a medical textbook to try and make this one work. I pressed the knife forward, between the two bones in her arm, pinning her there. She screamed loudly, trying to yank her arm free, but only managing to wound herself more.

"I'm sorry! Please let me go!"

"If you survive on enough for Eponine to come looking for you, pass on a message for me. I'll find her, and she won't interfere for her precious little baron again."

"I... if I survive?"

"Look at it this way." I took out the second knife, pressing it against her stomach. "If I stab you here, the acid in your stomach will eat away at you, killing you slowly. If Eponine makes it in time, and sees fit to send you to hospital, you might live. Not likely, with the blood loss though." I pressed forward, her scream shrill as the blade pierced her skin. Her free hand attempted to clutch at the handle.

"I wouldn't. You'll bleed even faster. My regards to Eponine."

I was sure Azelma would tell me how to find her sister.

Javert

I didn't know what I'd expected when I went in to the police station. It certainly wasn't this. A young blonde boy, bloodsoaked, was arguing angrily with two officers who were pushing him into a cell. As the door locked behind him, he whipped around, still protesting furiously. "Valentin?"

He turned around, caught sight of me and shook his head. "That is not my name!" he snarled. I turned to one of the other officers.

"What's he in for?"

"He came in ranting about a murder, still holding the knife. It's obvious he did it, look at him." Valentin fixed us with a cool, level gaze. I approached him, feeling the weight of his stare, trying not to meet his eyes. I was more aware than ever that this young man was no longer my little boy. I shook my head.

"You foolish boy."

"I'm not a murderer."

"I believe you, but no-one else will. What proof have you got?"

"Montparnasse killed the girl. He's the missing sixth member of Patron-Minette. Though apparently, you haven't managed to keep hold of them either."

"How can you know about that?"

He rolled his eyes. "'Parnasse tried to sell me out to them to save his own skin. The girl tried to warn me, and he slit her throat. I went back for her."

The amount of trouble he seemed to get in, perhaps it would be safer to keep Valentin in prison where I could keep an eye on him. I might not be able to get my little boy back, but I could still care for my son.

"I swear, boy, as soon as you get out of here, I'm taking you home where you belong. Your precious revolution is bringing nothing but trouble, and you'll end up getting yourself killed."

He gave a bitter laugh, sitting down and leaning on the cell bars anymore. "I'm not your son anymore."

"I beg to differ. You are my son and underage, so you're still under my jurisdiction."

"In the eyes of your precious law, I am Orion Enjolras, the son of Andre and Christine."

"And in the eyes of your precious revolution, everyone deserves a chance, yes?" He nodded. "Then I deserve a chance to raise my son."

"Well, I have a home, and it's not with you. So, when can I get out of here?"

"When bail is posted for you." He gave a small smile.

"A good father would bail his son out."

"You're quite high-status, you know. I can't afford it. You'll have to wait for your little guardian to come get you."

"He'll leave me here for a couple of days to teach me a lesson. He told me not to come here in this state."

"How can you be so calm? You witnessed a murder."

"Because I have to be. Don't you understand? You have to always set an example to your subordinates, and I, to my followers. I've heard it said that the day I lose my head in front of anyone but Combeferre is the day the world ends."

I smiled. "I suppose. If you're going to be here for a while, I suggest you get some rest. I'll work things out so you don't end up charged with murder."

"Alright. Goodnight." I reached through the bars and ruffled his hair, wishing my son goodnight for the first time in nearly eight years.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Youtube knows me, it's showing me the Les Mis trailer constantly. But on a more relevant note, I probably should be working on my vignette right now, but I want to get some work done and get this fic finished. In this chapter, I decided to bring back Cedille, because I need him reintroduced before the big finale. Still debating whether to go completely non-canon and kill Azelma. I'll make my mind up by the next chapter. I have a feeling that this will be a ridiculously long chapter.**

Cedille

I'd been in prison since the beginning of December. Montparnasse had ratted me out for my attempt to catch the medical student. It seemed like everything was going wrong until one day, almost two and a half months later. I was due for release in a few weeks, since nothing had officially been proved. Due to the number of inmates, I was moved to a cell in a regular police station, with just one cellmate. I knew my luck was changing when I saw who my fellow prisoner was.

I thought I was alone until I glanced over at the cot and caught sight of the silhouette of someone sleeping there. Further investigation told me that the sleeper was a young boy with ridiculously long blonde hair, tied in a ragged ribbon, his shirt covered in dried blood. My Valentin.

I cautiously approached him, wondering how light a sleeper he was, when someone rapped on the bars of the cell. Valentin sat bolt upright, not noticing me, turning towards the door. It was Javert. Valentin looked at him, lost for a moment, before coming to his senses. "Cedille."

"Valentin, ignore him. Go back to sleep. I'll deal with him." Valentin sank back onto the cot, but didn't go to sleep. He passively watched the scene before him, animosity directed at me, curiosity at his father.

"What idiot put you in that cell?"

"I don't know, but I think I owe them thanks. It's been a long time." He saw my glance flicker towards Valentin, so I stared for a moment too long, winding him up. He snarled at me.

"You touch him, and you'll be back in prison faster than you can blink. I'll make sure you can share a cell with that Patron-Minette brat." Doing everything I could to wind him up, I took a few steps towards Valentin. He glared at me, ready to retaliate if I tried to attack him. Young, vulnerable and yet somehow strong and unreliant, he reminded me of a wolf cub, nearing maturity.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt him. Or at least not now, that would be stupid." And first of all, he was my key to finding Montparnasse and his medical student. Eventually, when he realised I was keeping my distance, Valentin went back to sleep, curled up defensively on the cot. Javert stayed watching me the whole time, unwilling to leave his son's safety to chance. It was foolish, really. I'd picked up a few tricks. If I'd genuinely wanted to hurt Valentin, he'd be dead before Javert coud open the door.

But I could play on his overprotectiveness. In past years, I knew there'd been a fine line between criminal and Surete, one that I repeatedly crossed. Like I said, I'd learnt some tricks. Criminals were good at preying on emotions, using something precious against them, and I had the thing that was most precious to my jailer. I had to bide my time until Javert let his guard down, and then use Valentin to earn my escape.

Combeferre

I let Enjolras suffer for three days. I was annoyed that he could be so stupid, and I wanted to make sure he wasn't such a fool in future. At least in prison he wasn't gettin himself caught up in Montparnasse's pathetic gang warfare, and since his father was the head of the Parisian police force, I knew he'd be kept out of harm's way. On the fourth morning, I headed down to the police station.

To my surprise, I found Enjolras sat on a desk, Inspector Javert fussing over him. The reason became clear when the inspector stood aside. Enjolras had a gash on his forehead, still bleeding, a dark bruise on his cheek and a split lip. I pushed past the inspector and he stood back, letting me examine my friend.

"_Mon dieu_. What happened? Who did this?" Javert sighed, answering for Enjolras, who merely glared at him.

"Georges Cedille."

"Cedille?" Enjolras nodded.

"We were in the same cell. He used me as bait to get himsef released." My glare turned on Javert.

"You let him share a cell with a convicted murderer, one who just happened to have caused Enjolras suffering in the past?" I was suddenly aware of Enjolras's eyes on me, feeling him tense under my hand.

"Being convicted of murder doesn't count. I'm still alive."

"Barely, after everything. Enjolras, _cheri_, surely you can't be sympathising with him?"

"It's not worth the effort to hate him. After all, Montparnasse is the root of all my problems." I just sighed, cleaning the drying blood off his face.

"You've been lucky, it's just a minor wound, but there might be need for stitches. Inspector, could you please explain exactly how my patient got in this state?" Again, the icy politeness born of irritation.

"I tried to separate the two, but Cedille wouldn't leave Valentin alone."

"Well, where is he now?" I had a suspicion that I knew the answer already, but I needed to hear the inspector admit it. He looked unsure, which I was a little surprised at. Could the man have thrown away all his morals to attempt to keep Enjolras safe? I suddenly had a little more respect for him.

"I did exactly what you would have done in my situation. I released him."

"I doubt that was the best idea. All he'll do is keep coming after Enjolras."

"I did what I had to do to keep my child as safe as I could."

"Excuse me? Said child is still here and doesn't appreciate being talked about like he isn't. Combeferre, Bahorel gets in much more trouble." He sounded a little childish, rolling his eyes when he realised how juvenile he seemed. "It's true though. Bahorel gets worse injuries than this at least once a week."

"Yes, _cheri_, but Bahorel is hardly going to listen if I tell him to stop. You are younger than Bahorel, smaller than him, less predisposed towards violence and my cousin. Not to mention, I'm a medical student, it's my job to care for people. So I am going to look after you. Now, hold this against your forehead until I can get you home and stitched up." I gave him a handkerchief and he obeyed, a touch of irritation still in his expression.

"I assume I just need to pay bail, yet again, and I can take him home?"

"Don't bother. It's the least I can do right now, I'll write it off. Look after him for me. And Valentin, watch yourself, and try not to get yourself arrested again." Still clutching the bloody handkerchief to his head, Enjolras hopped down from the desk a little clumsily, his vision obstructed. He offered the inspector a mock salute and let me guide him home.

Montparnasse

Three days. I'd pinned the blame for murder on Enjolras and he'd gotten out in just three days. That meant I was back on the run, and I was still going after Eponine. It had stopped being about revenge, and was more about being something to do. I'd consider it a massive personal insult if I couldn't kill the Thenardier brat.

I felt a little guilty for getting Enjolras into trouble again. I was so used to messing with the scum of the streets that I felt bad for screwing over a saint. If he ever forgave me - possible, considering that he had an air of completely trusting innocence - and his watchdog ever let me near him again - much less likely - I'd break even with him.

Now though, I had tracked down another one of Eponine's grunts.

I felt like a hunter in an urban forest, hunting the foxes and rabbits and pests of the city. My latest target was a Mlle. Bailey Aranis, a brat if I ever met one. I'd known her before my feud with Eponine, and she was the most annoying excuse for a human bein I'd ever met, the only possible exception being her closest friend, Sophia Henri. I'd yet to find Sophia, but for now, I could rid the world of one useless waste of space.

The girl must have been expecting me. I guess Eponine had spread the word that I was hunting down her precious girls, one by one. Bailey jumped when she saw me in a dingy, empty cafe in some backstreet. She ran out into the streets ducking into the alleyway.

It was a stupid mistake. I couldn't kill her in the open, but no-one cared about one more dead whore in a cold, dark alleyway. I went after her, following her until she ran into a dead end.

"'Parnasse." She said my name pleadingly, looking up at me with big eyes. "We're friends, right? You don't need to kill me."

"Tell me where Eponine and Sophia are."

"As if. They'd kill me if I told you." I coudn't help but laugh at the pure idiocy of that statement.

"Well, isn't this ironic. My regards to the rest of the idiots who wouldn't give up the Thenardier girl." I pressed my blade to her throat, slit it, and let her drown in her own blood.

I'd get Eponine soon.

**A/N: Alright, it's officially decided. Azelma is safe for now. There's only one more murder planned before barricade day, and a few bits and bobs of emotional fluff. This will be slash (not explicit) because Enjolras/'Parnasse is my current one true pairing, and I may have a little one-sided slash. So one more death for now, and then on to progressing with the story rather than satisfying my co-writer...**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I've spent too long in this fandom. In history class, I read the word 'abdicate' as 'barricade'. Anyway, onto the story. Can't be bothered going into massive description of death scene, whether E likes it or not, because this story actually needs to go somewhere. This is the last death for a while (but there'll probably be some on the barricades). E, you'll hate this chapter because I'm introducing the slash, and if you still can't remember what that means, look it up on **

Montparnasse

I'd managed to track down Sophia Henri, and left her with a punctured lung, slowly and painfully bleeding to death. She'd finally given me Eponine's location, the coward giving up her mistress to save her on skin. Needless to say, it hadn't worked.

And so I'd finally found her, hiding away in a little apartment in the city centre, completely oblivious to the fact that I'd found her. I pushed open the door. It wasn't even locked. She was awfully confident considering she knew I was after her.

"'Parnasse! You gave me a fright. I guess you're going to try and kill me now. All this fuss over that stupid blonde brat."

"He was my only chance! Claquesous thought I betrayed them, and that boy was supposed to be my payment. And you, you ruined it all for that stuck up baron who will never look twice at you because he's in love with that kid your parents sold to the philanthropist."

"You kill me, and you're in serious trouble. Patron-Minette aren't happy with you, so I teamed up with them to stay safe."

"Do they know it's your fault I couldn't deliver what I promised?"

"It's not the point. While you've been chasing me and killed four of my girls, they've been coming after you. You're a dead man walking." I swore under my breath. Eponine was right. I was as good as dead if the entirety of Patron-Minette was after me.

"Fine. I won't kill you. But I swear to God, I'll get my revenge. Watch out for yourself."

"Whatever. Run back to your little band of revolutionaries and beg forgiveness."

"Of course, and I'll be sure to tell the baron that his pathetic stalker sends her regards."

I left, realising Eponine was right about one thing. As much as I tried to move on and forget, I couldn't get over the fact that I'd completely ruined Enjolras, and I wanted to be forgiven. Guilt was not an emotion that I was accustomed with. I figured that his medical student watchdog wouldn't let me near him, but I was going to try anyway.

I headed towards the cafe. There, Combeferre couldn't slam the door in my face. I wanted the chance to explain myself, but I didn't know what to tell him. I had ruined everything. I overreacted when I killed that Christina girl. I should never have tried to hand Enjolras over in the first place, and I especially shouldn't have pinned the blame on him. I headed to the cafe and hoped for the best.

Enjolras

Combeferre had fussed over me getting stitches, deciding that a little cut on my forehead compared to some deadly brain injury. I thought only Joly was such a hypochondriac with his patients.

I'd managed to slip the leash and go to the cafe, comforted by the normality of my friends' comings and goings. One or two commented on my latest wound, but every one of us got into trouble every now and again, and every on of us had been hurt doing our work. Now though, I was alone, enjoying the peace.

The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see one of the Amis probably Combeferre complaining that I'd slipped out. When I saw who it was, my jaw dropped.

"Get out."

"Enjolras, please, wait..." Montparnasse begged, wide-eyed. "Please, let me explain."

"If Combeferre comes in..."

"Then I'll leave you alone, and never come back, but I want to apologise. I've ruined everything, and they're going to kill me, and before I do, I want to make everything right because I completely messed everything up..." He sounded slightly hysterical, and I felt a little sorry for him.

"Calm down. Who's going to kill you?" Looking at him now, panicked and terrified, and I remembered that Montparnasse was younger than Jehan. I couldn't help but pity him.

"The rest of Patron-Minette. Eponine, she's working with them, but she's the one that ruined everything. I never meant any of this to happen. Cedille wanted me to hand you all over, but I couldn't. Yes, I was taking you to Patron-Minette but it's because I thought you'd be brilliant, and we manage to stay out of trouble for the most part. I know it was a mistake, and it was stupid, and I'm so sorry. Claquesous is going to kill me, I mean it, I'm going to die."

For some reason I couldn't explain, I put my arms around the young man, trying to comfort him. He was trembling, in shock, and I wondered how the hardhearted criminal had been reduced to this. "It's alright. Everyone makes stupid mistakes. If it makes you feel better, I forgive you, but I don't understand why you're so desperate to get my forgiveness."

"I don't know. I've been thinking hard about it. I felt so guilty for everything, even since I sold you out to Cedille. And I came to see you afterwards, and you were so hurt and I felt so bad. I don't ever feel guilt. I've thought about it, and I can only come to one conclusion. It's wrong, and I don't know how it happened, but I can't think of any other explanation. I think... God, it sounds insane, but I think I'm in love with you."

The look of absoute terror on his face told me that he was deadly serious. I didn't know how to react. Before I could fully process what he'd said, Montparnasse leant forward and kissed me. At that exact moment, the door flew open.

"Enjolras, are you..." Combeferre stopped short when he realised what was going on. I jumped to my feet, cursing, and ran.

Combeferre

Enjolras fled past me, and I turned to chase him, but realised he probably needed space. Montparnasse was sat at the table, eyes wide with some unfathomable emotion. The doctor in me deciphered that he was in a state of shock, but I wasn't going to attempt to calm him. Obviously Enjolras had, and that hadn't ended up well.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Haven't you messed him up enough?"

"That's rich, coming from you. You've been lying to him since his childhood, only to reveal the truth at the worst possible moment. I messed up, and I messed up badly, but I came here to try and fix things."

"I think it's a little late for that, don't you? Leave Enjolras alone, or I swear I'll go to the police."

"And his real father, you mean? I'm assuming that's the reason he got off with a murder charge."

"You deserve to rot in jail. You can't make amends. You kidnapped Enjolras twice, sold him to a monster, poisoned him, murdered a girl who tried to save him, pinned the blame on him, and God only knows what that little display was about."

"It's not up to you whether Enjolras can forgive me or not."

"I want you to explain what the hell just happened before he ran out." I could only think of one reason to find him kissing my best friend, and that was that he'd forced himself on Enjolras.

Montparnasse gave a sad smile. "I think I just declared love to a man that should hate me."

"What?" I wasn't aware that this monstrous excuse for a human being was even capable of feeling love, especially for someone as different from him as Enjolras would. Grantaire loved ancient Greece, and constantly mentioned the Greek idea of two men having a reationship. I'd always thought he was hinting at Enjolras, but it was strange to see an example firsthand. Well, obviously it was better to just hint, because it looked like Montparnasse had just terrified Enjolras.

"He told me he forgave me, you know. I reckon it's because I was in such a state. I doubt he really meant it. No-one's that forgiving. Like you said, I ruined everything for him. But it made me feel a bit better, and I got a bit too brave and confessed all." I shook my head and Montparnasse smiled again. "And for a moment, before you busted in, I could have sworn he kissed me back."

Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped forward and slapped him. "Enjolras is a good person. As if he could ever care about a pathetic murderer who can't let go of a grudge."

"He is a good person, and that's exactly why he does care. Because he's not a cynical, unforgiving bastard like you." Before I could hit him again, I walked out.

**A/N: I hate myself for this chapter, but in my defence, I am ill when I write this, and therefore, not thinking straight (a poor excuse, but what the heck). And it's only going to get worse. Considering letting Enjolras run into Cedille in the next chapter, because I feel like an evil person.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Since I'm stuck in bed with tonsillitis, and have nothing better to do, I present chapter 18. I am determined to be the evil all-powerful authoress, and make my poor boys suffer. There will be angst, and Cedille will not make things easy, because I'm nasty. Ah, well.**

Cedille

I hadn't expected to run into little Valentin, especially not in such a state of distress. He literally ran right me, crashing into me on a busy street corner. "Pardon me, monsieur... you!" As soon as he realised who I was, he tried to pull away, but I grabbed his arm.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."

"That makes a change."

"I mean it. I'm through with fighting, and I'm sick of making you suffer. I never meant it to be this way, you know. There was once a time where you trusted me implicitly."

"Stop it. I can't deal with this. First Montparnasse, now you. I need to breathe." He looked seriously panicked, and I tried to appeal to the little boy who'd looked up to me once.

"It's alright, Valentin, everything's alright. Don't panic. Keep breathing. Come on, you need a drink. When you were little, I always used to get you to calm down for me."

"I don't remember..."

"I know you don't. God, I've been a fool. I didn't recognise you at first, and then I used you to get back at your father. I've hardly made the best introduction. Will you let me try again?" I was taking advantage of his shock, but if I could win him round, it would be worth it.

"Why not? It's hardly the strangest thing that's happened today. I'll probably wake up and find this whole day has been a dream." He let me lead him away. I took him back to my apartment and made him a drink, adding a measure of brandy for the shock.

He took a sip and then spat it out, grimacing "There's alcohol in that. I don't drink."

"I'm sorry. I thought it woud help."

"I remember some things, by the way." He bit his lip, not quite meeting my eyes. "I remember that night, and every now and then, I get little flashes of something only half remembered. I can't piece it all together though." Whatever Montparnasse had done to scare Valentin, I was thankful, because it had made him much more docile.

"Isn't it better than nothing?"

"I suppose so. That night, though... It was terrifying. I always was terrified of that river. 'Ferre said it was because I almost drowned in it, but I suppose my subconcious reminded me that it was a border between then and now."

"I tried to find you. I came after you. I was accused of your murder because you panicked." I couldn't keep an accusatory note out of my voice.

"Of course I panicked. I was twelve years old and you'd just slit my wrist." His voice was cold and hard, and I cursed my stupidity, but I couldn't help but make things worse.

"Why the hell did you run? If you had stayed still, none of this would ever have happened."

"What did you expect? I tried to go home. You hurt me, and I was scared. I was scared of you. I didn't want to be anywhere near you. I was terrified."

"And because you had a panic attack, I spent five years in prison."

"It wasn't my fault."

"Of course. You're perfect and innocent and can do no wrong." Valentin shook his head and stood up.

"This was a mistake. I should never have come here."

"No! We are not done!" I grabbed hold of his arms, and he tried to struggle free. He was twisting and thrashing, doing everything he could to break out. Without thinking, I struck him, dropping him on the floor. He stayed down for a moment, looking up at me, fear and hurt in his eyes. Then he jumped up, the weakness freezing into a hard glare.

"I think we are. Leave me alone. Neither of us are the same as we used to be, and I want nothing to do with you." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Enjolras

Unsure what else to do, I went home. I had too much to think about, and my head was pounding. Combeferre wasn't home yet, and I wondered if he was still at the cafe. A few moments later, he stormed in, red-faced and furious. He took a bottle of brandy from his medical supplies, poured out a measure and downed it.

"'Ferre, please tell me you didn't do anything stupid."

"Did you forgive him?"

"What? Yes, I..."

"Why?" I stopped short. It seemed like role reversal. Normally he would be the one who was apologetic, me demanding an explanation. I bowed my head, but wouldn't be beaten.

"Why not? You've forgiven me for everything, and I'm hardly the kindest person to you or any of the others. He's young, and foolish, and he got in with the wrong sorts of people. We can hardly blame him for that, especially when so many woud say the same of us."

"Fine. I'll say to you everything I told him and lets see if you can justify it. He kidnapped you."

"It was nothing personal. It was about money, not specifically against me."

"He sold you to Cedille." I couldn't help but quote what Montparnasse had told me at the time.

"It's just good business."

"He poisoned you."

"By accident. No different to the time Courfeyrac gave me food poisoning."

"The girls he murdered."

"He didn't know any better. Besides, when everything turns upside down, which won't be much longer, it's likely that you and I will have to kill."

"He pinned the blame on you."

"Not necessarily. I was foolish and ignored you, and that's the reason I was arrested. My mistake, not his malice."

"And him throwing himself at you?" I couldn't repress a smile. I'd often been told I was out of touch with emotions, but I understood more than I let on. When Combeferre was angry, he lost sight of the obvious, and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"He made a declaration of love. If I'm honest, I was rather flattered, if a little shocked. Even the Winecask hasn't gone past less than subtle hinting. I must have hurt the poor boy's feelings. It must have taken a lot for him to admit that, after everything."

I got up and made to leave, to talk to Montparnasse, and Combeferre realised what I was doing. "Enjolras, I care about you, and I admire you for many reasons, but you're a goddamned fool."

"That may be, but this is the right thing to do, and if I can't do the right thing, what sort of example am I setting?" Before he could argue, I left.

Montparnasse

I talked with Enjolras for a while, still a little shocked. I knew I was ruined. Patron-Minette would kill me. I could hardly find allies among Enjolras's group. Even if he forgave me, the others wouldn't, especially with Combeferre's influence.

We didn't talk about my outburst, but the easiness of our talk didn't make me think we were deliberately avoiding it. Well, he was casual. I was terrified. I'd spent so long among criminals that I believed forgiveness had to be hard won, not easily given. I was expecting him to suddenly turn around and tell me that he'd never forgive me, but it didn't happen.

"So, where's Combeferre?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Julien is a very close friend, but he doesn't have any power over my life. Why does no-one seem to understand that? I'd rather talk while he wasn't here, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose."

"So, you mentioned that you were in some sort of trouble. Do you need refuge?"

"I can't. I've caused you and your friends enough trouble, and they already hate me enough."

"Even so. You were supposed to take me to them. I will not join a criminal gang, but there has to be something I can do."

"Even if I let you, I couldn't take you to them. You're now officially considered a threat to security especially seeing as your father's in the force." He looked conflicted for a moment at that last, but nodded.

"So what do we do?" He smiled. "For a moment, I considered faking my own death, but I'm in public far too often to pull it off. Who's caused your group trouble?"

"Well, Eponine. But she's with them now, when she's not chasing after the baron."

"Eponine? Marius's gamine? Does your gang know what she's responsible for?"

"I don't think so. She got them arrested."

"Then it's simple. Find a way to expose her. I'll help."

"Why?" He leant back in his chair, smiling, running a hand through his hair. While it wasn't tied back, I noticed how long it was, far too long for the fashion, but it suited him... No. I was getting distracted.

"Well, perhaps I'm extremely passive-aggressive. Or I was rather flattered that someone gave me a sincere declaration of love for the first time."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. Whispered comments are hardly the same thing. But I'm only willing to try this on one condition. No more killing. However you expose this girl, you must do everything you can to ensure she isn't killed."

Willing to try this? Was this all in my head? Even so, I had to hope. "And my condition is that you don't tell any of your friends. I do not want Combeferre to murder me for leading you astray."

"Deal. I'd best go. See you soon."

**A/N: One more chapter of fluff/filler to cover up until the barricades. Chapter 20 will be the beginning of the barricade scene. But no more posts until about mid-December due to exams. After that, I want up until Chapter 20 done by New Year, and I'm working on a little fluffy Xmas piece. But until then, **_**au revoir.**_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Damn it, I wasn't supposed to be writing, but I can't help it... ah well. Thanks for over 1000 views! I promise, barricades in the next chapter.**

Combeferre

The date of May 15th 1832 had absolutely no meaning to Orion Enjolras. But it was Valentin Javert's twentieth birthday. Somehow, my cousin had found a compromise between my aunt and uncle and his father. He called himself Valentin Enjolras, and had adapted remarkably quickly. His memory of childhood was faded, but starting to return, probably triggered by his father's visits.

On the morning of his birthday, he was laid in bed, leant against the headboard, daydreaming. "Are you planning on getting up?"

"Not for a while. I have no classes today, but I'm meeting someone later."

"Oh. Who?"

He wriggled under the blankets, closing his eyes. "Someone. You don't need to now everything. I don't know all of your friends, and you don't need to know all of mine."

I smiled. "Have you found yourself a secret lover? Courfeyrac will be disappointed if you haven't told him." He gave a small smile, not opening his eyes.

"Perhaps. Speaking of Courfeyrac, what time is it? I said I'd go see him before I go out. It completely slipped my mind."

"Half past ten," I informed him and he groaned. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, which only seemed to frustrate him more. "Don't get so stressed. If your hair's annoying you, get it cut. It's not exactly a selfish gesture."

"That's the told me that as a birthday present he's taking me to the barbers. I'm rather worried." I laughed. For once, Courfeyrac had a point. It was getting ridiculous, and his hair was longer than the majority of girls, let alone men. He tied it up in a ribbon and scrambled out of bed.

"He said he'll be here at eleven."

"Yes, he also told you he'd be at the meeting at seven last night. It was quarter to nine by the time he arrived. And he respects you far too much to bully you into anything." Somehow managing to get respectably dressed far faster than anyone else I knew, he sank into his armchair by the fireplace.

"No, he justs acts that way around you because you have a reputation for being overprotective of me. He's far less cautious normally. He's been calling me Rapunzel for months now." I was a little offended by that, but Enjolras didn't notice. The pair of us were far too used to Courfeyrac's antics to let them have too much of an effect on them.

I left as soon as Courfeyrac arrived, too tired to deal with him.

Enjolras

I don't know why I ever let Courfeyrac talk me into anything. He was far too happy at having convinced me when we went to the cafe afterwards for a drink. "I can't stay long," I reminded him. "I'm meeting someone."

"Oh, don't try and hide it. You're meeting Montparnasse." I stopped in the middle of the street, staring at him.

"How in God's name did you work that out?"

"Combeferre doesn't know. Whether you like to think so or not, he is far too protective of you. He makes a point of knowing everything. You're going to great lengths to hide who you've been meeting for months, and the only person you know that he hates that much is Montparnasse."

I felt that there was no point in denying it. "Yes, you're right. If you breathe a word to Combeferre, I will find the most painful way of killing you imaginable. Since Montparnasse used to be a murderer, I'm sure we can come up with something." We both knew it was a empty threat, but he swore he'd keep quiet. I think he mostly did it to get at Combeferre.

It was lucky that Courfeyrac knew, because Montparnasse came to the cafe. I knew that Courfeyrac would want to know the full story, and I'd find it a lot easier to explain with Montparnasse around.

In fact, I didn't get a chance to explain things to Courfeyrac. Montparnasse didn't notice him, the result being that he came in, sat down at my table and kissed me. There was a shocked laugh from Courfeyrac. "Well, then. I'm disappointed."

"Courfeyrac, let me explain."

He laughed again, shattering the tension. "You didn't tell me! Did you think I was going to run off and blab to Combeferre? Have a little faith, _mon frere_. You could have saved yourself months of me harassing you."

"Nothing could save me that. You're seeming extremely unsurprised by this."

"Oh, I am surprised, but mostly because I'm seeing you breaking your own rules, even if they are unspoken rules. It's rather fun, really. Still a little hurt that you kept it secret. But if watching you and Grantaire has taught me anything, it's that you can never give too many second chances. Oh, and not to get involved when you're annoyed at each other, because the glares you give him would rival Medusa."

I shook my head and stood up. "If you see Combeferre, you haven't seen me since this morning, you have no idea who I'm with, please."

"You and your illicit lover can count on me." I knew without looking that Montparnasse rolled his eyes. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't do... I don't think that leaves you many limits."

"See you later, Courfeyrac."

"Bye. Oh, and happy birthday. Lets see if you make it to twenty-one." With a smile, I left with Montparnasse.

Montparnasse

I lay in bed, Enjolras beside me, fast asleep. I couldn't sleep. The night was my place, the daylight his. We contrasted one another brilliantly.

So he was peacefully asleep, head buried in my shoulder, occasionally muttering something in his sleep. And I was wound up tighter than ever, unable to rest, one arm numb from where Enjolras was lying on it. I shifted slightly, ignoring his mutters of protest, and thought.

It had taken time to turn my entire life around. Eponine had been exposed and ran away, leaving me back on survivable terms with Patron-Minette. Somehow, Enjolras had appealed to his father, clearing me of any charges I'd built up over the years. I was a free man, I still had money, I had a beautiful lover.

And yet, somehow, it wasn't enough for me.

There was something in the back of my mind, the opposite of my conscience. Claquesous had approached me yesterday and offered me a second chance, a job. I felt guilty for even connsidering it while I was laying beside someone who'd been a victim of these 'jobs' more than once. He risked his closest friend to be with me, because he believed in me. But I wasn't cut out to play happy families. I didn't do the whole happy families thing. Enjolras would graduate law school, find some girl to marry him - plenty enough would be willing - raise a family. Or maybe his revolution would suceed and he'd end up running the country. He and I weren't forever. I was a bad influence, and his morals had failed to affect me.

A part of me knew that I was always going to take the job. But I also knew that I couldn't lie and pretend nothing had changed. Enjolras had to know. I adored him, probably more than he loved me. I was a burden to him, another life to turn around that was incapable of helping himself. And even that hadn't worked.

I tried not to think about it. I hugged Enjolras a little closer, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, he was awake long before me, out in the kitchen. He was sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the papers. He flicked back his fringe in irritation. His hair was still long enough to tie back, but he'd lost the ribbon somewhere. "Morning."

I smiled at him, but it hid the turmoil in my mind. He was going to hate me. I sat down opposite him. He cocked his head. "What's wrong?"

"I saw Claquesous yesterday. He offered me a job."

"Hasn't Patron-Minette gotten you in enough trouble?"

"I can't sit around and do nothing all day." I could see him tense up, and I suddenly knew what Courfeyrac meant by his glares that could rival Medusa.

"You can't go back to that. If you get yourself in trouble again, my father or not, he won't let me help you."

"I think... I think I have to." He stood up and gave me a look, a mixture of hurt, disappointment and anger.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other. I don't suppose we'll be seeing each other around." He gave a pained sigh. "I tried. I thought I could work this. But I'm sick of giving second chances. It's bad enough with Grantaire, but I trusted you. I thought what I said meant something. Obviously you're beyond saving. Goodbye."

With a heavy heart, I watched my guardian angel leave, wondering if it was worth sacrificing him for a bit of work.

**A/N: Had my English prelim today (is it only Scotland that has prelims?) and for the first quarter of an hour of the writing exam thinking 'Must not use Hugo's characters." I think I managed it... Promise I will update my other fics soon, they've been neglected :-(**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Extremely happy having this story back in my control and not in E's. This is partially due to the fact I've lost the control of another one to another friend, and have promised to make Saint-Just's Return a lot slashier than originally intended. Ah, well, I bow to the will of the people. Barricades! (Or at least Lamarque's funeral...)**

**Also, thanks to Smiley Smackdown. This entire story came from seeing a picture on Deviantart of Enjolras and Montparnasse, and I thought "Hey, I can write that!" It's now officially my favourite pairing, however weird it is. Glad you like it!**

Combeferre

It was June 2nd. Enjolras was amazingly calm, back in control, the way things used to be. The rest of us were much less calm. We had three days to finalise our plans for the revolution, and it sarcely affected him. He hadn't left the cafe since he heard the news, hadn't slept.

I was trying to convince him to come home, using the excuse that he'd run himself into the ground before he got the chance to fight. He went back to our apartment, still talking in full flow about plans for the funeral day. I was only half paying attention, more exhausted than he was, despite the fact that I'd had more sleep. He was happier than I'd seen him in a long time, the hope and dreams for a new dawn back in his eyes. It was enough for me.

As soon as we got home, he went to make himself a coffee. I grabbed hold of him. "No. Caffeine is the last thing you need. You haven't slept in two days."

"I'm fine."

"Yes, you are now, but if you keep this up, you won't last. Please, just go to bed."

"I have work to do."

"And at least seven people who would quite happily take over as and when you need it. We need you to lead, and you'll end up making yourself ill. I have your best interests at heart, _cheri_."

"Yes, sir." At least he was smiling. "Alright, point taken, I'll go. If anyone comes with news, wake me up." I promised that he would and he slid into his bedroom. I wasn't expecting anyone with news. Enjolras had met with the leaders of other revolutionary groups yesterday, and between them all, they knew everything they needed to know. There was a chance that something new would come up, but it was a slim chance.

I knew I had to keep an eye on my cousin for the next few days. He still seemed completely unaware that although his mind seemed not to, his body had physical limits. He couldn't keep going forever. Provided he ate and slept, he'd be fine.

I was startled when someone hammered on the door. I expected it to be someone from a different group, and was a little surprised to find Courfeyrac at the door. "Since when do you knock?"

"Since you had to drag Enjolras home. If I came in shouting hello at the top of my voice like normal, I'd wake him up and you would brutally murder me. I think I'll leave that until we actually get to the barricades."

"That's not funny."

"No, but it's true. You're being awfully optimistic if you think we'll all get out alive. Personally, I think we should keep an eye on the youngest ones. They're the ones who most deserve to survive. Jehan, Marius, Enjolras, Joly."

I wasn't sure how to deal with Courfeyrac's sudden pessimism. He was supposed to be the cheerful one. "Yes, because that plan will work brilliantly," I said, more than a touch of sarcasm in my tone. "Marius may not have any ties to the rest of us, granted. Joly won't leave without Bossuet, Jehan's especially close to Bahorel, and Enjolras will never leave. This is what he wants."

"I live in hope."

"Why did you come over?"

"There's no-one at the cafe, and it's empty at my place. Marius is off stalking his little mistress." That was more like Courfeyrac. "If Enjolras asks, I'm discussing the revolution with you. At this stage in the game, I'm terrified of telling him anything else."

I was stopped from answering by another knock at the door. I rolled my eyes, yanked open the door and cursed loudly. It was Montparnasse.

Montparnasse

Damn it. I'd hoped his little medical student would be out, planning for the upcoming insurrection. But of course he'd be the one to answer the door. His other friend, Courfeyrac, looked at me equally angrily. Combeferre caught the look between us. "Does someone want to explain what the hell is going on? What are you doing here?"

"I came hoping to see Enjolras."

"Why?"

"To apologise."

"You already tried that."

"I want to apologise for something else." Combeferre turned to Courfeyrac and cast him a questioning look. Courfeyrac went to a door, opened it and looked in, and nodded.

"Right, he's asleep. Combeferre, I swore I wouldn't tell you, so keep your mouth shut. Enjolras and Montparnasse were meeting together for months. They stopped after his birthday because you ran off and went back to your little criminal gang."

I sighed. "Do you think I don't regret that? That's why I'm here. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done to give him up, and I'm so sorry."

"Tough," Courfeyrac snarled. "You've had enough chances. You were given one more, and you blew it. Now, we're extremely busy, so could you please leave?"

"Give him up?" Combeferre asked, before realisation dawned. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I told you I'd confessed everything to him. It was his idea to make a go of things."

"Courfeyrac, you knew?"

"Hell, if Enjolras swears you to secrecy about something, the assembled forces of the entire world couldn't get a word out of you. Now Montparnasse, get out. You screwed up."

"At least tell me when it is you're all planning on risking your necks."

"Three days. If you want any hope of getting Enjolras's attention, wait until after that."

I wasn't going to wait until afterwards. I was going to join them. If I could save Enjolras, stop him from getting himself killed, maybe then I could earn back his trust. Or at least sleep easier knowing I hadn't stood idly by while he fought his way to the grave.

Enjolras

I was one of so many lining the streets for the funeral procession. The rain did little to deter us, though Joly had failed to show up. I'd sent for Bossuet but he'd stayed with Joly, and I had no idea where Grantaire had gone. I shouldn't have expected him to show up.

Combeferre was on one side of me, Courfeyrac, the other. Our last hope for peace was gone, and there was no time to grieve. Action had to be taken.

The trigger was a skirmish between the police and a civilian. Shots were fired, and the crowd turned into a mob. The six of us, with a gamin boy in tow, ended up in the Rue de Chanvrerie, at the Corinthe. It was there that Bossuet called on Courfeyrac, and there that we decided to set up the barricade. For hours we built, tearing apart the wineshop. Grantaire, drunken beyond measure, had fallen asleep upstairs, despite my attempts to send him away.

Three problems presented themselves at once. I saw my father, I saw Montparnasse and I heard a gunshot. I started to go towards the noise, but Montparnasse grabbed my arm. "Valentin, I need to talk to you."

"Now is not the time. Go away."

"You need all the help you can get here."

"Fine, stay. Risk your neck for something you don't believe in. Just leave me to do my job."

The gunshot was easily explained. A man had murdered another for no real reason. As much as I hated what would come next, I had to show people that turning on one another wouldn't be tolerated. People looked to me to act, even if it meant I had to execute a man.

"On your knees," I said, grabbing his shoulder. Rage inspiring strength, I pushed him down. "Pray or ponder. You have one minute."

Silence seized the men around, all aware of what was about to happen. I counted each second on my watch, and then pressed a pistol to his forehead.

I fired.

Completely devoid of emotion, I kicked the body aside. Some of the men looked scared. I'd terrified myself. That night in the alley, as the girl died in my arms, Montparnasse had doubted my ability to kill a man. I'd silently agreed, doubting myself. The realisation that I could take a man's life without a hint of guilt was abhorrent to me. I deserved to die tonight, to ensure I never had the chance to become a monster.

Everyone was looking at me, waiting. So I did what I had to do. I spoke to them, tried to inspire them, told them that I'd condemned myself. It broke my heart to hear Combeferre telling me that they'd all join me in my fate, but I had to continue. They didn't need me right now, they needed what I represented, and it was my job to deliver.

Montparnasse came to me afterwards, though I tried to ignore him. "Congratulations. You've just killed the leader of Patron-Minette."

"I don't care. I killed a murderer. It had to be done, even if it has condemned me."

"You're an executioner, not a murderer."

"For now, perhaps. But during the course of this, I guarantee I will kill an innocent man."

"Just give me the chance to save one."

**A/N: I tried to stay true to the book, since I've studied the barricade scenes repeatedly, though Lamarque's burial comes from the Les Mis anime, Shoujo Cosette. However, as much as it hurts me to miss out my favourite chapter (which made me cry hysterically at 3am the first time I read it... my sister was not impressed), this will not end with Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk. Unfortunately, it doesn't fit the way I want this story to end.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: So much to do, so little time. Should really be studying for my French exam in the morning, but ah, well. This counts as French studying.**

**If I have details wrong, please don't kill me. I don't actually own a copy of the Brick yet (not til Christmas), and I'm working with the online version. The translation is completely different to my library's copy, so it's all a bit sketchy. I'll just claim it's AU .**

Enjolras

_I am coping. I am coping. I am coping._

As much as I repeated the mantra in my head, it didn't change anything. I wasn't coping. I wasn't ready for this, but I had to put on a brave face and carry on like the marble leader they expected. Even Combeferre looked at me differently, going from my equal to my subordinate. I didn't like it, I couldn't deal with it, I was going insane...

To make things worse, my father had been captured and the first of the Amis had fallen. Gavroche had announced to everyone that the inspector was a spy. The crowd demanded his capture, despite me trying to reason with them. So to attempt a compromise, I told him that he would be killed when the barricade fell.

And Bahorel, our protector, had fallen. I scarcely knew what had happened, just seen Jehan drop down beside him, begging him to hold on. He couldn't, and he'd fallen, the first of my friends to be martyred to a cause that seemed increasingly hopeless as time went by.

And that flag. That, if nothing else, would haunt me until the end of my days. I'd been afraid to take the flag and stand before the Guard. I was a coward. A sacrifice was more inspiring to them than a living coward could ever be. At a lull in the fighting, I slipped into the Corinthe, leaning against the wall before sliding into a seated position. I needed a moment to breathe, to brace myself against the weight of the world on my shoulders. I felt like I was going to choke on my own breaths, or faint, or something.

"Keep breathing, boy. You're doing fine." I flinched at the sound of a voice, before realising it was my father. I shook my head, not trusting my voice. "Just keep calm, or you'll do yourself an injury. Then you're no good to anyone."

"I don't think I can do this. I've lost any ability to think or speak for myself. I'm completely automatic, just telling people what they want to hear. I couldn't even protest against them arresting you."

"Forget about me, I'm fine. Worry about yourself. I cannot bear to lose my son so soon after finding you. Look after yourself."

"I don't know what to do," I admitted, head in hands.

"Valentin, _mon fils_, just follow your instinct. It's led you this far, more or less unharmed. You're doing fine, lad, you just have to keep going. Just one foot in front of the other and you'll work it out as you go along."

I nodded, struggling back to my feet. All of a sudden, I heard shouting from outside. I heard someone call Jehan's name. Jehan? Had I left the youngest member of my group to die? I ran outside, to see he was nowhere to be found. I turned to Combeferre. "Where is he?"

"He... He's been captured."

Javert

I wasn't surprised when they proposed a swap of prisoners. But when they came to fetch me, I heard a distant voice and a ripple of gunfire. I saw all eyes turn to Valentin, saw the fleeting look of terror in his eyes as he turned to me. He had to act, and for his sake, I'd forgive him any action he chose to took. There was no other choice for me. He was in charge.

He tensed up, refusing to meet my gaze, though the words were directed at me. "Your friends have just shot you."

I waited, watching the carnage. The two medical students were bustling around me, treating the wounded. I kept Valentin in my gaze as long as I could, as often as I could. He seemed immune to the chaos, but I wondered what the effect on his mind would be. I saw him fire shots, shots that would no doubt kill people.

When night truly started to fall, the elder medical student, his flatmate, tugged Valentin into the wineshop. He was ghost-white, smeared with gunpowder and the blood of other men. He looked almost in shock, and the doctor knew it.

"For God's sake, sleep. There's nothing else you can do."

"No, I don't want to..."

"Get some sleep or I will put you to sleep by force."

"I don't have time. People are depending on me. I've let my friends die, Julien. I can't add idleness to my list of sins."

"Killing yourself won't help Bahorel or Jehan. Enjolras, please, see sense."

He got two hours sleep at most, and even then, he was tossing and turning, the rest offering him no respite whatsoever. At dawn, he jumped up and carried on, refusing to stop. He was going to keep going until he died or won. At this rate, the former was more likely.

I was almost certain that his time had come when I caught sight of the gunman on the other side of the barricade, carefully aiming at my boy. I'd never felt so helpless. I didn't hear the shot among the other carnage, but someone pushed Valentin out of the way. He fell to the ground, wincing but still alive. That someone was Jean Valjean.

Valentin retreated into the cafe, Valjean following. "You saved my life. There has to be something I can do in return."

"One thing." Valjean turned to me. "Let me take care of the spy." Valentin bit his lip, a small drop of blood sliding down his chin. His eyes flicked to me, unsure of how to react. He shook his head slightly, terrified. He couldn't refuse a man who'd saved his life.

"It's a deal," came another voice. The medical student. Valentin shook his head and hissed at his adoptive cousin, loud enough for me to hear but not enough for Valjean.

"Julien, no. I can't give up my own father."

"Then I'm making the choice for you. It's him or you, and I'm not losing you."

"I can't do this."

"Then let me." He pulled Valentin away, leaving me to my old enemy. All the loose ends were being tied up.

Valjean

I took Javert out to the Rue de Mondetour alleyway and produced a knife. "Of course," he spat. "The weapon of a murderer."

"I'm not going to kill you," I told him, cutting the ropes on his wrist. "If I killed you, I'd be no better than you."

"What do you mean? I'm not a murderer."

"You have a child, don't you?"

"How do you know that?"

"The blonde boy. He looked at you the way Cosette does when she talks about Fantine. If I killed you, that would leave that boy alone, the same way Cosette was left alone."

"How is that whore's brat being orphaned my fault?"

This was the grudge that had lasted throughout the last decade. It wasn't about me escaping from prison, it was about Fantine and Cosette. I would not stoop to his level and rob a young man of his father. Fantine might have lived to see Cosette and recovered if he hadn't burst in and scared her. I wouldn't let another child be as lost as Cosette if I could help it.

"You know that you were responsible. But that's not the point. I am not a murderer. When we're done here, you can arrest me if you want. But right now, your son needs a father. That is the condition of your survival."

"I can't go back. That would do the opposite of protect him. I'm supposed to dead in revenge for the poet. If I go back, they'll think he's betrayed them." My old foe paused for a moment, thinking. He took a deep breath.

"I want to make a deal. I'm tired of chasing you. Like you said, my son needs me, and I intend to go after the man who ruined everything for us. So I'm making you an offer. I can't go back in there, so if you watch over him for me, I will never bother you or the who... Fantine's child again."

I thought for a moment. This was no longer about an argument between me and him. This was about a father desperate to care for his child. Yes, I was here for Marius Pontmercy, but that didn't mean I couldn't watch over this other boy.

"Alright. But who is it you're going after now? And why, in over ten years, have I never heard anything about a son?"

"Because he was just a child at first, and you were just another convict. And he disappeared a long time ago. The man who made him leave is going to pay. When he was still around, I left him in the care of friends, not wanting to uproot him. When he disappeared, I came to Paris permanently."

I shook my head at him, frowning. "You had a young child of your own, and yet you had no sympathy for Fantine. What made her so different from you?" He glared at me in return, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"I worked hard and made an honest living to support my child. We came from equally bad beginnings, and yet I managed to get somewhere, rather than giving it all up and ending up begging."

"That's ridiculous," I snarled. "She cared for Cosette, but you chose your job over your son. Catching me was more important than caring for him. You're disgraceful. I've done wrong, and that's why I'm working to right it. I'll let you go, I'll even watch over your boy. In return, you devote the rest of your life to ensuring that that boy does not end up the same way as Cosette."

"He has a set of parents that love and adore him and provide for him. They care for him far more than I ever did."

"Perhaps. But Cosette had me. It's hardly the same. He needs a parent. This is your penance for your mistakes." I turned to leave, but Javert called me back.

"Valjean... Thank you."

**A/N: Well, I'm not overly proud of my first (and likely only) Valjean bit, but **_**c'est la vie**_**. This chapter took me four days to write (the French exam was easy) but they normally take one and a half at most. Severe writer's block. :-( Montparnasse will be back next chapter, and I'm nearing the end of my first fic! Not sure whether to be happy or sad about that... Anyway, on with the show!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Haven't written this in a while, but I've been really busy and got bad writer's block. I promise a new chapter for all three fics in the next few days. Working my way up to the dramatic central event here... **

Javert

I should have left. But as soon as I exited the Rue Mondetour alleyway, I saw someone else, someone who shouldn't be there, scale the smaller barricade. Georges Cedille. I knew he couldn't be working for the rebels. Valentin had been planning this for years, he'd know if Cedille was planning on joining his insurrection.

I wasn't going to let him run rampant. I went back, knowing I would probably regret it, but I hadn't trusted Cedille for eight years. I wasn't going to change my mind now. I kept to the shadows, no-one paying the slightest bit of attention to me in the midst of the chaos. I tried to keep an eye on Cedille, who was looking for someone himself. It was either his informant among Valentin's group, or Valentin himself. Either way, I didn't want to let him find them.

I managed to find him and confront him. "Cedille, what on earth are you doing here?"

"I decided to come check up on my _petit_."

"Haven't you done enough? This is all your fault. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. He wouldn't be out here risking his life, he'd be at home, safe."

"Where he could be ignored while you chased after some old ex-convict who just wanted to save some woman's kid."

"Who's your informant?"

"Informant? Oh, that little brat. Haven't seen him in months. Last I heard of him, he'd run off with your boy. He betrayed me, he's not my informant anymore. I suppose he's around here somewhere."

"Who is he?"

"The Patron-Minette boy. Montparnasse. If I remember rightly, he was the one who caused our little Valentin so much trouble. So why are you after me and not that brat?"

"Because he has tried to make up for his mistakes. You just make them worse. Get out of here. This has been years in the planning, and these boys are all in enough danger. If one of them gets hurt because you've ruined their plans..."

"I'm not leaving. I suggest you keep a close eye on your son. Wouldn't want to lose him again, would you?"

With a sigh of frustration, I turned away, and went to look for his ex-informant, to see if he really had changed sides.

Montparnasse

Combeferre glared daggers at me when he realised I was here, but I was far past caring. I'd seen Enjolras's friends dying around me, and it was breaking his heart, and mine along with it. I'd left him, but never let go, and was determined to make amends. I was surprised that he hadn't broken yet.

I wanted to drag him away from this horrible place when I saw him cry. He was torn between morality and buying his remaining friends a little more time, and he'd had to kill a man who'd personally done him no harm. Hell, it had hurt him enough to kill Claquesous, a thief, a murderer, who'd caused him no end of trouble. Shaken and unsettled, he climbed down from the barricade, and Combeferre sent him inside to calm down.

Ignoring the angry looks Combeferre shot me, I went after him. He was more agitated than I'd seen him since he'd pushed me against a wall months ago and considered slitting my throat. He paced up and down, lost in some inner turmoil that hurt him more than I ever had.

"Valentin..."

"Get out of here and leave me alone."

"No. You need someone. You're hurt, Valentin, maybe not physically, but you're hurting." He shook his head deperately, but I wasn't leaving. I opened my arms to him and he gave up, collapsing against me. "Oh, God, I'm an idiot. I should have been here to help you. I should never have left."

"It's fine."

"No. I do not deserve your forgiveness again. All I'll do is let you down again and I can't do that."

"I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't forgive you. After all, I'm nothing but a murderer, a coward."

"You're not a coward, you're a hero." I held him close, trying to comfort him.

"I told you only a coward kills a defenceless opponent. Even worse, I killed him when his back was turned. Combeferre tried to stop me, I should have listened."

"Relax. You're doing what you have to. A few deaths here will save your precious Patria. Isn't that worth it?" He nodded, a little calmer. "Your friends all knew what to expect from today, and they all thought it was worth it. To earn your trust, let alone your friendship, is worth anything. I'd happily die today if I thought it would make amends between us."

"This isn't about me, it's about the cause." He was getting frustrated, but that was better than this crushing sadness.

"Yes, but they wouldn't be half as faithful to Patria if they hadn't had such an inspiring leader. You even managed to turn me around."

He gave a mirthless laugh. "No. I failed miserably at that. Every chance and opportunity I gave you, you threw it back in my face. The reason I forgive you is because I stopped caring."

"No, you did change me. I left the gang, it wasn't worth the price I had to pay."

He shrugged, and I held him at arms length. "Valentin, listen to me. I love you, and so do all your friends. We're here today for you, because you made us believe in you, and we're willing to die for you. We need you to lead us today. We know it's hard, and it's breaking your heart, but we won't follow anyone else. Do you understand me?"

He nodded, a little calmer. "And I want you to make me a promise." I was in no position to make demands of him, but I didn't care. "If you get the chance to escape from here with your life, take it, because you are the person who least deserves to die here."

"I won't make that promise. But you're right. I need to go." He went out into the street, back into the chaos.

Combeferre

I don't know what Montparnasse said to Enjolras, but for once, I was glad he had. He came back out, looking better, not happier, but more determined. He was ready to do what needed to be done. He grabbed his carbine and went back to the wall, shouting orders to the remaining men.

But that was when everything started to go wrong.

I noticed that Javert had returned, and he accosted Montparnasse. They spoke for a while before Javert released him. I felt that it was my turn to make amends. After all, Enjolras had forgiven him, and he'd come here to help. I went over to him.

"What did Javert want?"

"Probably the same as you. To see if I was really here to help Valentin or if I was going to betray him."

"I actually wanted to put the past behind me. It's likely that I'll die today, and I don't want to die hating the person who made my cousin happy. Forgive me?"

"Since he's had the grace to forgive me, I'd be a terrible person if I refused you. But we have more important things to do." I nodded my agreement, and we turned back to the fighting. Enjolras had shaken off whatever had been bothering him, and was back to his usual self.

"What did you say to him?"

"That we needed him to be strong, because no-one else can take his place."

"Well, it worked."

I felt better knowing that Montparnasse, Javert and I were all keeping an eye on Enjolras. All my friends were dear to me, but none more so than him. Hence why I tensed up when I saw Georges Cedille heading over to him. I wasn't the only one. Montparnasse and Javert both reached for their pistols, aiming them carefully. Cedille wasn't going to get the chance to hurt Enjolras again. If we had to die today, so did he.

Enjolras saw them aiming. "Don't!" he shouted, a fraction of a second too late. Both pistols fired, and I was certain that one of the bullets would miss its target and hit Enjolras.

I was almost right. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, the actions dragging on forever when they were over in a heartbeat. Reacting as fast as always, Enjolras pushed Cedille down, out of the path of the bullets. The sound of gunfire rang in my ears. A spray of blood, a pained scream, and Enjolras fell.

**A/N: So... I don't really know what to say, so I'll just upload the next chapter ASAP.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger ending last chapter. No mention of anything here is medically accurate. I will give nothing away, except bad language later.**

Combeferre

It took a few moments for me to realise it was me who had screamed. Enjolras hadn't made a single sound. Montparnasse reacted faster than the rest of us, throwing his pistol aside and running to Enjolras. He lifted him into his arms and cradled him, begging him for some response.

I sat down beside him, trying to assess the damage. Only one of the bullets had hit him, and it was impossible to know who had fired the fateful shot. He was still alive, bleeding badly. From the way the bullet had hit him, I knew there was nothing I could do. He was dying. Javert and Courfeyrac had come over to see what had happened, and I heard him let out a soft curse.

"Julien..."

"Aimery, don't, please. I can't. There's nothing I can do." I hissed the words at him, not wanting to let Enjolras hear his death sentence.

"Julien, you can't just leave him to die. Please."

"I can't. Don't you understand? I can't save him. All I can do is make him comfortable." I turned back to Montparnasse. Enjolras opened his eyes, his gaze a little faded, but clear. He gripped Montparnasse's hand. Montparnasse, once a heartless criminal, looked terrified, close to tears.

"Valentin, can you hear me? Say something, please."

"Marcelin..."

"I'm here. You know, you're the only person other than my mother that knew my real name. Hang on, please. This is all my fault."

"You don't know that."

"I'm not just on about this. Cedille would never have found you if it wasn't for me. I've done nothing but make things worse for you. I'm just a burden on you. I hate myself for this."

A few tears slid from Enjolras's eye, and he squeezed Montparnasse's hand all the tighter. Courfeyrac grabbed my shoulder, giving a soft sob. He, Enjolras and I were the closest of friends. Inseperable. The heart, the mind and the soul of the Amis. I, as the mind, as much as it cut me, could live without the soul. Courfeyrac, the heart, couldn't.

I realised with dismay that Courfeyrac was the only one of us four that truly deserved to stand beside someone as amazing as Enjolras. He was always loyal and trustworthy. They rarely argued, and never over anything serious. And the rest of us? A cousin who'd lied to him since childhood, a father who'd abandoned him for work and a lover who constantly betrayed him.

Courfeyrac pushed forward, dropping down beside Enjolras. "Hold on, _mon frere_. If anyone can do it, you can. Please. You have to pull through."

With one bloodsoaked hand, Enjolras took Courfeyrac's in his with a sad smile. "I know this is hard for you, Aimery. But you have to be strong, for me. Whether I live or die, you have to carry on, _mon aimé frere_. I... I doubt I'll get out of here, but you will. Keep going for me." At that, Courfeyrac broke down.

Montparnasse

I forgot about Cedille, worrying more about his victim. I'd shot him. The thought rang in my ears, and I was terrified. Courfeyrac was in a bad way, Enjolras surprisingly calm, despite the tears streaming down his cheeks. I held him close, worried about letting him go.

"Valentin, why? Why would you save that worthless piece of scum? His life isn't worth even a fraction of yours."

"That's not your decision to make." His voice was weak, but he was clinging on.

"Even so, why would you risk your own life?"

"Too many people have died for me. You said yourself, all of this is because of me, not the cause. I had to save one. I didn't think, I just reacted. I'm sorry..."

"Don't! Don't you dare blame yourself for what we've done to you. I'm already never going to forgive myself. I don't deserve you, I know that, but I can't live without you."

"Julien... when I die, you have to keep fighting for me. Do you understand?" Combeferre nodded, and I suddenly realised the doctor hadn't contradicted Enjolras. I gently slid him into Courfeyrac's arms, wincing at his barely surpressed gasp of pain. I jumped to my feet and grabbed Combeferre, Javert following.

"Tell me it was just that you didn't want to argue. Please. He can't be... There has to be something you can do." Combeferre shook his head.

"Anything I do will cause him more pain, with the same outcome. It will be slow and painful, but I can't do anything. We just have to make sure he's not alone, and that he knows how much he means to us. Make amends, but don't say your goodbyes. He knows that he won't survive, but he feels strong. Accepting it, saying goodbye, leaves him helpless."

I glanced over at Enjolras, clinging to Courfeyrac. Both were in silent tears, because they couldn't stand seeing the other so upset. "Why would he choose me over him?" I murmured. Combeferre considered the pair, lost in their own little world.

"They're closer than any friends I've ever met. They even call each other brothers, didn't you notice? If one offered futhering their relationship, I doubt the other would refuse, but they're happy as they are. This will break Courfeyrac's heart."

Courfeyrac loosened his hold on Enjolras, but continued to cradle him. "Julien, I... he's..." I turned away, refusing to listen to the final word that spilled from his lips.

Javert

I'd lost my only child, again, but this time, there was no way in heaven or earth to get him back. His cousin told me and the Patron-Minette boy that there was no way of knowing which one of us had been responsible for the fatal shot, and Cedille had disappeared. I couldn't make him suffer for playing his part.

The medical student had to take over, any grief having to be pushed aside. I stayed fighting for the rebels, for my son. In the end, we managed to push the soldiers back. We won, but then came taking account of the losses.

Half an hour after the soldiers had surrendered a man staggered out of the ruined wineshop. He looked extremely hungover, and when the medical student saw him, he went ballistic. He knocked him to the ground with a single punch, and the man looked up at him, bemused.

"Combeferre...?"

"Where the fuck have you been? What could possibly be so important that you disappeared for the last twenty-four hours? Something to do with your precious green faerie? You useless bastard! People have died while you were passed out, drunk."

"What happened down here? Normally it's Apollo raging at me." The drunkard looked around, taking in everything. He saw Courfeyrac slumped against a wall, still sobbing softly to himself. The poor boy hadn't stopped. He saw Montparnasse taking his anger out on the wooden wall of the barricade. He saw Combeferre, furious beyond measure. Finally, comprehension dawned.

"No. Not Apollo. Gods don't die."

"This one did. And where were you? Drinking yourself stupid. You're unworthy to even kiss the ground he walked on."

"You think I don't know that?" the drunk replied softly. "Where is he?"

"Inside. With the rest of the dead." I wasn't the only one who couldn't bear to see him. I'd been the one who'd taken him inside, reluctantly taking him from Courfeyrac and covering him with his beloved red flag. Only four of Valentin's group were still here; Montparnasse, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and the drunk. The Pontmercy brat had disappeared with Valjean.

Valjean. He'd promised to watch Valentin, but had vanished as soon as he had his daughter's lover. It was the condition of his freedom, and he'd failed to uphold it. He'd regret that soon, but I had more important things to worry about. I'd lost my only child, again, but this time, there was no way in heaven or earth to get him back.

**A/N: I'm not really sure what to say. Except this; I listened to 'Waving Flag Celebration Remix' on loop when writing this. I regret choosing such a cheerful song.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: This is the final chapter of this story, though I'm considering a sequel. Thanks to everyone who's made it all the way through this story; I didn't think I would, let alone anyone else. I've suitably gotten over the self-loathing of killing my favourite character. Oh, and this chapter will put more emphasis on Enjolras and Courfeyrac's relationship, because I haven't written much about it. **

Combeferre

"Courfeyrac, you have to come out sooner or later. Christine and Andre will be here soon, they'll want to see you."

"Why? What would they want with me?" It had been three days, and Courfeyrac had shut himself in his room, refusing to come out.

"What would Enjolras say if he could see you?"

"Well, I'll never find out, but I bet he'd be a lot more sympathetic than you." I bowed my head when I realised Courfeyrac was right. He had a way of getting through to Enjolras that no-one else did. I could sometimes make him see sense, but Courfeyrac made him feel, cracking the marble facade and showing that there was a young man underneath.

And now Courfeyrac was suffering more than any of us. The loss of all our friends hurt him, but I'd never seen him so upset. Normally he was the one who tried to cheer people up when they were upset. I knew Enjolras struggled to remain cheerful without Courfeyrac's influence, but I didn't know how much it worked in reverse.

"Perhaps, but are you intending to miss his funeral? It's your only chance to say goodbye to him. He cared about you more than anyone else, you can't leave him."

"Make amends, but don't say your goodbyes. Accepting it, saying goodbye, leaves him helpless." I cursed, hearing my own words shot back at me.

"You heard that." I sighed, slumping against Courfeyrac's door. I could be here a while. "Courfeyrac, please, see sense. We got into this mess by going to the funeral of a man that we'd never met, that none of us cared about, bar Enjolras. You might say that we went for him and you're right. But how offended do you think he'd be if you went to the funeral of a stranger, but not his? He's your closest friend. You're the only person that ever really saw him for who he was. I was too busy trying to protect him, but you really cared. You have to go."

"I don't want to. It means accepting that it's real and not all some horrible nightmare." I heard Courfeyrac sniff. He hadn't been so upset in all the years I'd known him. "But you're right. Somewhere there's an angel watching us, and he'll be disappointed if I don't see him off. He suffered much more than me, it's not fair for me to sit here and mope."

I heard movement, and shifted away from the door just in time. He pulled the door open, and my jaw dropped. Courfeyrac had always taken great pride in his appearance, but he looked terrible. His hair was tangled, his eyes red, three days of stubble on his jaw, his clothes a mess. He hadn't changed, and was covered in dried blood. "_Mon dieu_, Aimery. You need to clean yourself up."

He gave a watery smile. "I suppose I do. It wouldn't do to turn up there if he's better dressed than I am. I have a reputation to uphold." I started to think that maybe, just maybe, he would pull through this.

Grantaire

The idea of going to Apollo's funeral terrified me. The others were either being buried at home, or their bodies had vanished. We all knew Apollo wanted to stay in Paris. So the funeral was held in the city.

I couldn't stand it. It all seemed wrong. Courfeyrac sat with Enjolras's parents, silent tears streaming down his face. It was like tearing apart twins, opposite in almost every respect, but they couldn't be apart. Enjolras's mother took his hand, trying to comfort him. Combeferre sat with his own parents, a bowed head the only sign of sorrow. Montparnasse sat alone, trying to hide the occasional tear. Javert was as stoical as his son, keeping his eyes fixed on the coffin.

Enjolras's story had spread quickly. A man who'd fought for freedom, who'd died to save a man who didn't deserve the new world. He'd led the only surviving barricade, and martyred himself when he could easily have stood aside and survived. As a result, a huge number of the public turned up to show their support, every one of them wearing red. These were the people that Apollo died for, and not one of them would have known his name if he hadn't jumped in front of a bullet.

It was horrible. They didn't know him, they didn't care about him. They hadn't sat listening to him talk until the early hours of the morning, tried to ply him with drink and make him smile, wishing they could do something to make themself worthy of being noticed by a god.

I saw him lying in the casket, and that was all wrong too. His hair was loose. He'd hate that, always gathering it up in a length of black or red silk. There wasn't a single smear of ink on his fingers, and his cravat was perfectly tied. His face was expressionless. Even my marble statue wasn't like that. He could frown and smile and get completely lost in thought. There was no signs of the blood and pain, the broken heart at being the last to go.

This entire day was fake. It was pretty enough, but shallow and meaningless. Apollo would be ashamed. I decided if anything could be real here, I could. The smuggled bottle in my jacket made its way to my lips, as inconspicuously as I could manage.

Combeferre saw me stowing the bottle back inside my jacket. There was a look of disgust on his face, and when we left the church, he grabbed hold of me.

"You're a disgrace. You couldn't even manage one day without drinking. You gave him no respect in life, and now you can't even respect him in death. There's only three of us left. We were supposed to keep going. But Courfeyrac is in pieces, and the last thing he needs is a drunken display by you. Why are you even here? You did nothing but drag Enjolras down. Or do have to make sure that he's as low as he can go."

"You wish it had been me instead." It was a statement, not a question. Combeferre reached inside my jacket and pulled out the bottle, smashing it off the floor.

"They say only the good die young. He didn't deserve it. You, on the other hand... You saw something brilliant and beautiful and perfect and tried to drag him down, belittling everything he stood for. He still let you try, no matter how much you let him down. Given the choice between the two of you, I'd choose him a thousand times over."

He stared down at the shattered glass on the floor. "You couldn't even make it through the service. I thought you said you cared for him."

"I do." Combeferre scoffed and walked away. I did care, which is why I had to drink, why I had to make Combeferre angry and protective. At least one part of this day had to be real.

Montparnasse

I'd been sat by the side of the grave for hours. It wasn't that I was unable to continue my existence without Valentin, though it would be hard. It was because it was peaceful, and though people came and went, I was undisturbed. I found it more than a little ironic that his headstone was a marble angel. The plaque on it was hidden by mounds of flowers from the public, people showing up fairly often to pay tribute to their hero.

The only other person who stayed was Courfeyrac, seemingly for the same reason. I felt bad for my companion. He'd known Valentin longer than I had, loved him just as much as I did. I wanted to say something to him, but my mind went blank. All we had in common was Valentin, but I thought we'd both need someone sympathetic to help us get over our grief.

I toyed with a red rose in my fingertips, hesitating. Red was certainly the right colour, and the rose, a symbol of love. But until the barricades, I'd felt my love was unrequited. He'd turned to me for comfort, but he was desperate. Taking a breath, I stood up, reaching down to place the rose as close to the foot of the angel as I could.

"Don't," Courfeyrac said suddenly, looking up at me.

"Why not?" I was determined to continue, always rebelling against instruction. If he didn't think I was worthy, I thought it rude to voice that sudden opinion. Courfeyrac gave a slight smile.

"Enjolras always hated roses. He's allergic, they made him feel terrible and interrupted his work."

It was a start to a conversation at least. I could work on that. "What did you pick?"

From the sea of tributes, mostly red, he fished out a bunch of red, blue and purple flowers; carnations, forget-me-nots and irises. "A red carnation means 'my heart aches for you'. Forget-me-not should be obvious. And the iris is the national flower, but it's the symbol of the monarchy, so somewhere, he's screaming curses at me."

I gave a little smile. Courfeyrac got to his feet and brushed his fingertips against the cool marble. "Forgive me for the flowers. I promise, no _fleur-de-lis_ next time. I'll be back soon enough, _mon frere_." He turned to leave, but paused, and turned back to me.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Me?"

"Who else? It's getting cold, and Enjolras would not be happy if I allowed his lover to sit and freeze. Besides, we're both hurt by this. Better to suffer together, no? Combeferre's useless, he never saw Enjolras as anything other than a child, a patient, and Grantaire will be out drowning his sorrows. We have no-one but each other."

I took one last look at the gravestone, setting the rose at the base of the angel. "If he can leave you irises, you can cope with a rose. We'll look after each other." I allowed Courfeyrac to pull me to my feet and take me back to his apartment, thankful that I wouldn't be alone.

And somewhere, I knew, Valentin was watching, glad that we knew we had to move on and keep going, just as we'd promised him.

That night, to avoid the unseasonally cold night air, Courfeyrac and I curled chastely in bed. We'd cling to each other for a while, the pain still raw, and we'd come out the other end with good memories of Enjolras and a new friend each.

After Courfeyrac had fallen asleep, I prayed for the first time in my life, to an angel that was surely watching, apologising once again for the flowers, and thanking him for the company. "I miss you, but I know things will get better. I love you. Goodnight."

**A/N: Done! I have absolutely no idea why I made Montparnasse and Courfeyrac bond over bad taste in flowers, and I spent ages researching the language of flowers to make it all fit. Anyway, I'll get some work done on Saint-Just's Return before starting on the sequel (partly because I can't think of a title). Once again, thanks for reading my first fanfic!**


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